Reality of a Hero
by Lady Mear
Summary: People grow apart as they grow older. Now a twentyeight year old Harry stuggles to reconnect with those from his childhood, Timetravel. Independant!Harry. Warnings:MM, MMM, MF, chan, drug abuse, incest, adult themes.
1. Lost

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR.**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 1: Lost**

Harry sighed again and knocked back the drink in his hand. Another night, another bar, another alcoholic concoction that he wouldn't remember the name of tomorrow, another partner who would be nothing but a fading dream tomorrow morning… afternoon, whatever. He would have rubbed his eyes, but that would have smeared his eyeliner. Instead he snickered to himself at his currently melodramatic melancholy.

The club was typical of its genre, filled with a multitude of people dressed in all manner of clothing, from full Elizabethan Dress to jeans and T-shirts. The average hair length was mid back and the average amount of makeup would have made a drag queen swoon with delight.

Taking his drink, he made his way over to a dark corner and plonked himself gracelessly down, or as close to gracelessly as he got these days. At twenty-eight, he still hadn't managed to top more then half a foot over five. And he was still as slender as a beanpole. He's long ago decided to just blame the Dursleys and be done with it. His glass, complete with it's blood red drink went onto the rose decorated shelf beside him and the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Defeated-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or whatever they were calling him these days settled back to enjoy the music and the ambience and to try, if only for a few hours to forget… everything.

The night passed into blur of lights and music and scantily clad bodies pressing up against him after the bargirl passed him a small pink pill with his last cocktail. Through the haze, the lights made pretty patterns as they trailed over the dance-floor, over the ceiling, the walls and the other dancers. He didn't remember getting up onto the dance floor. He didn't remember someone opening his shirt. The hot press of flesh, flat chest, a pierced nipple, the sensation of a syringe against his arm and the music began to speed up and become louder, somehow becoming calmer at the same time. He remembered being shoved onto the couch and he remembered the feel of hot, wet pussy surrounding him as the woman under him murmured something about 'Albert'. He remembered being lubed up and penetrated from behind and someone tracing his tattoos as they moved within him. He remembered arching back into the double sensations and he remembered spinning away on a whirlwind of sensation from the touches and the smells and the alcohol and the drugs and the men and the women. He remembered cuming.

He knew he returned to the dance floor with the smell of sweat and sex still on him, his shirt stained and his trousers sticking to his arse. He remembered finding cum in his hair and thinking it hilarious.

He was sure there had been more then those first ones. His arse hurt by the time the club closed and the drug began to fade. He was pretty sure he had managed to acquire at least three phone numbers and he had a feeling he wasn't wearing his own shirt as he stumbled into an alleyway near the club and jerkily pulled the portkey chain twice to activate it.

He didn't remember falling into bed, but that was because he didn't.

HP

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

The voice which broke through the drug and alcohol fuelled dreamland was filled with worry and… something he wasn't in any condition to recognise. The voice, however, was familiar. Hermione… what was she doing here?

"Harry! Come on, you have to get up!"

Realising she wasn't going to go away, he slowly forced himself in the general direction of full awareness, feeling his stomach and his head object painfully.

"'Mione…" he slurred on his second try, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Merlin, Harry; are you alright? What happened to you?"

"'m fine." He opened his eyes, noticing in the back of his mind that he was on the couch with Hermione looking worriedly at him before closing his eyes in pain. He rolled over with a low moan and forced himself into a sitting position, "Coffee…"

"Cof…? No Harry, we have to get you to St Mungo's."

"St Mungh..Gungo's?"

"Yes, you have to report this, Harry!" she was starting to sound hysterical.

He blinked dazedly at her, what memories of the previous night he had coming back to him, "Report…? Coffee… shower… talk…okay?"

"No Harry! You can't! The evidence… We have to go to St Mungo's and report this!"

Realising that Hermione was not going to let up and having no idea why she was desperate to get him to hospital, he slowly dragged himself to his feet, closing his eyes as the world spun and then shakily made his way to the kitchen. Still with his eyes closed, but with the ease of long practise, he snagged the hangover cure from the table where he always left one when he was going out and drained it in one go, slumping into a chair with a groan as it hit his stomach. Hermione followed him out, wringing her hands and muttering about St Mungo's and Aurors. He hunched over the table, resting his head in his hands as he waited for the potion to kick in.

A few moments later, he waved a hand in the general direction of the coffee machine which immediately turned on. Ignoring Hermione's pinched expression; he used the same method to get a cup under the spout and milk onto the table. He downed the first cup in one go, glad to get the taste of the hangover potion out of his mouth. It was his own creation, designed to get rid of more then just the alcohol.

Standing up, the shakes gone, Harry walked back over to the coffee machine, "Do you want a cup?"

"No!" Hermione snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

Harry shrugged and poured himself a second cup, taking a look in the mirror as he did so. His eyes widened, "Shit…"

His eyeliner and mascara were all over the place and the non-smear burgundy lip gloss had not lived up to the advertising. Despite being waist-length, his hair was going a Robert Smith impression and going from the flakes, using cum instead of gel. He could vaguely remember someone pulling out of his mouth… It had been funny at the time… Groaning, he took stock of the extent of his condition. His arse hurt, which wasn't unusual and suggested that there were more people then the original group he remembered. His dick felt like a wet rag, he needed a piss and for some reason his right nipple hurt. There were four long scrapes across his chest when he opened the shirt… the slut in the red corset? And he was somewhat bemused to discover he had got his second nipple pierced at some point. Had that been the big black man? He's had a needle… or was it a syringe? He probably had a handful of hickies as well and of course, he plucked at the bright pink shirt he was wearing and shuddered, he's been right the night before, he _was_ wearing someone else's shirt.

"Mione, I need a shower and a change of clothes. Whatever the emergency is, can it wait till then?"

"No!" she yelped, "We have to go _now_ so they can get the evidence. You can't shower!"

Harry blinked at her, confusion evident on his face, "What evidence?

"The rape… You were 'attacked' right? That's why you're in this condition, right? All bloody and… and…" she waved vaguely to his hair and side. Harry followed the waving hand and found a condom stuck to the side of the shirt.

"The rape? You thought I was raped?" Harry laughed, "Hermione Granger, always the first person to jump to conclusions! I hate to disappoint you, Mione, but this is how I usually look on Saturday mornings… afternoons." He corrected himself when he noticed the time.

"What?" the look of horror on the girl's face drew a sigh from the man standing on front of her.

"When I get back down, Mione, I'll answer any questions then. All I ask is the basic courtesy of not going to the paper with anything I say".

At her nod, he went back into the sitting room and climbed the stairs, slowly disappearing. Hermione waited until she heard the shower turn on before heading for the kettle. She needed tea. She possibly needed a large shot of brandy as well, but had no idea where Harry kept it.

Walking into the kitchen an hour later, his still damp hair in a loose plait and dressed in a pair of black combats and an open shirt, he looked far better then he had before as he absently fiddled with a nipple ring. Hermione was sitting with her arms and legs crossed and glared at him from the moment he was through the door. Harry sighed, there was no way to prepare for this conversation, nor was there anything he would say or do to lessen the blow. So he hadn't bothered to try… hence the open shirt.

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the sight of him. At five foot five, he wasn't that tall, but he was one of the most powerful wizards in the world and that confidence showed in every fibre of his being. He might have been slender, but he had packed a wiry strength into his body over the years, there wasn't an ounce of fat on him, it was all muscle. The tattoos stood out starkly against his pale skin and black shirt. On the left was the massive Celtic eagle that went from below his ear to his thigh. On the right, a second stylized stag and grim like dog chased each other from his shoulder to his ankle. There was a lily on his lower stomach, she knew, positioned so that it was between the stag and the dog and on the centre of his back, a snake curled up his spine. The zodiac sign for Gemini was below it with an interlocked G and F. She could clearly see all the tattoos; her mind filled in the pieces covered by his clothing having heard them described enough times. A nipple ring glinted on each side of his chest, catching the light as he moved gracefully towards her.

"What do you want to know?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of tea from the pot she had made and sat down.

"When did you get your nipples pierced?"

He leaned back, "The left was in seventh year. It was dare from Seamus. The right was sometime last night."

"How many do you have?"

"Two in my nipples, two in my dick, six in my ears and one in the nape of my neck."

"Your…" the shock on her face was almost comical.

"Mmhum" he nodded in agreement.

"Why…?"

"Why not? Because I wanted to? Because I'm not part of the wizarding world and don't need to conform to their standards? Which answer do you want?"

They were silent for a moment.

"What happened last night?"

Harry shrugged, "I went out to a club and started drinking. Eventually I was offered something else and I took it. After that everything goes a bit hazy."

"Drugs? YOU took drugs? How could you Harry?" Hermione had jumped to her feet, scowling at him, "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what they can do to you?" she was practically shrieking by the time she finished.

Harry remained seated, looking at her calmly, "Yes, yes, because I wanted to, probably and yes."

"What?"

"You asked the questions, Hermione, I answered them."

She sat down slowly, going over what he had said, "You _wanted _to?"

"I went out to get drunk, get high and get laid. I wanted to forget, to just enjoy myself without having to worry about anything."

"Did you have sex?"

"Yes, at least six times going off how much my arse hurts."

"Language, Harry" she frowned in concentration, "You're gay?"

"Bi if you want to get technical. I think I screwed four girls, but one of them could have been a bloke."

Seeing Hermione's expression, he elaborated, "They slid under me while I was giving a blow job to someone else. I was too off my head at that point to remember it clearly enough to tell." He shrugged, "I probably knew at the time."

"The cuts in your chest?"

"An over enthusiastic young lady with very sharp and very fake nails. The most I remember about her was a leather corset she looked ready to pop out of."

Hermione uncrossed her arms and then crossed them again, trying to reconcile that she thought of Harry with what she now knew, "You went to the club to get laid?"

He nodded and sighed, sinking further into the chair, "Sometimes I'll pick just one or two and bring them home. Other times, I'll take advantage of the club's… unorthodox behaviour policies, if I'm in a place with those policies anyway. Like I said, I went to drink, to get high, to get laid, to have a good time without having to worry about either the press or the wizarding world or tomorrow."

She bit her lip, putting together all the clues she'd ignored over the years, "That's what… Oh Merlin, Ron! You and… Oh Merlin."

A pained smile crossed Harry's lips at the mention of his childhood friend, "Yes. He walked in on us. I always hoped he'd get over it."

"Sweet Circe, I'm sorry Harry, I never… I didn't know…"

"It's alright Hermione, 'Survivor's Guilt never helped anybody, so snap out of it', isn't that what you said at the time?"

She winced at the callous tone of his voice as he mimicked her that day perfectly. She wanted to reach over and hug him, but knew the touch would be unwelcome. In some ways Harry was more open these days then ever, in other's he was even more closed off.

"Is this why you and Remus aren't talking?"

"Remus thinks I'm wasting my life. He wants me to return to the wizarding world and go back to being its hero."

"And you don't want to?"

"Nope. I've had enough of those… sheeple to last me a lifetime."

"Isn't there anything for you there?" Hermione whispered.

"Like what Hermione? Beyond sycophantic worship, what can I have in the wizarding world that I can't have here? I can't play Quidditch. I have no desire to get within a hundred yards of the ministry ever again, let alone work for it. Dumbledore pretty much ruined any chance of me ever wanting to return to Hogwarts. Where else would let the Boy-Who-Lived work after the first few times I get mobbed? The Weasleys… let's not go there. Neville has moved on and got his life sorted out and you visit when you get the chance. What do I have there, Hermione?" there was a thread of anger in his voice now.

"But Harry, we need you. You are a symbol of light and hope. The people need you to be there for them."

"Like they needed an _abused_ child to save them?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, then she shook her head, "Remus is right, Harry, you're wasting you life."

"They were silent for a moment. Hermione shifted slightly letting Harry know that there was something she was working up the courage to ask him. He waited until she bit her lip and straightened his back for what he knew would be the last fight they ever had.

"How can you enjoy this life?" There was desperation in her voice.

"How can I enjoy Quidditch? How can I enjoy loosing at chess? I don't know, I just do. Is that really so wrong?"

"I don't know…" she hugged herself tighter, "Why did you never tell me about… about this?"

"Because I was scared you'd react the way you are now."

The anger in her eyes was immediate, "You were scared of how I'd react? This was a better way of finding out? Coming to visit and seeing you so cut up I thought you had been raped? How the hell am I meant to react? How can you live like this Harry? How can you want to?"

The spark of anger had reached his eyes, "Why do you care Hermione? You've got your own life."

"I care because you are my friend, or at least I thought you were! But after this? I always thought you were doing something here, instead you're getting drunk and taking drugs! I don't know what happened to you Harry, but I don't like it. You need to come back to the wizarding world and get yourself sorted out, now!"

"I don't think so."

"Damn it, Harry! The minister is demanding your presence, and you will damn well take an interest in the world around you, or so help me God…"

"Or what, Hermione? Why should I care? Haven't I given them enough already?" Harry snapped, ignoring the fact that Hermione was swearing, Harry felt his own anger beginning to rise, how dare she…

Hermione was practically shaking, "Harry James Potter, you will be at the ministry tomorrow morning and you will _leave_ this insane waste you call your life or I will never see you again. Remus is right! You are just a bitter little boy hiding because he scared to come out! You're just like Snape, holding grudges and punishing everyone else because Dumbledore is dead!"

She stood up then and turning, stormed out the door. Harry watched her go, a look of infinite sadness on his face as he softly whispered, "Why Hermione, why can't you just let me be?"

He had known he would loose Hermione, just as he had lost Ron because of this, although not for the exact same reason. Despite their claims to the contrary, he was still The Boy Who Lived to them, the hero. He always had been, right up until he shattered the illusion by showing them the side of himself that didn't match their expectations. For Ron it was finding out he liked blokes. For Hermione it was the discovery he wasn't fighting some crusade from his bedroom.

He went to a club again that night, breaking his usual rule of not going two nights in a row. He had to use a healing potion, something he hated to do.

The club was rammed, more so then his usual venues, with people. He made his way to the bar and ordered a bottle of Tequila. He had no idea how much he drank before the pill was offered. He snatched it eagerly and downed it with what was left of the Tequila, followed by the worm.

Reality phased out under the drug's influence and the dance floor beckoned. Yes, this was what he wanted, then was what he needed. He let the drug take him. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the sweat on his face. He wanted them to understand, the chance to explain… He wanted to do it all over again and get it right this time.

In the sweltering heat of the nightclub, Harry's magic soared. Under the influence of the drug, it followed his subconscious order and found away to obey.

**Please Review!**


	2. Back

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 2: Back**

"BOY!"

The shout startled Harry out of his drug induced want-to-be-coma and made him bury his face in the ratty pillow with a groan. His head felt worse then it had in a long time, probably as bad as his first experience with strong alcohol and a need to forget. He slid his hand out from under him and sent it questing for the hangover potion that usually spent it's time on his locker. That was the first inkling he had, that something was very, very wrong. His old plastic glasses were on his locker.

Pulling his head away from the pillow, he looked around the room focusing as best he could through the pain haze in his mind. Privet Drive? What, by all that was holy was he doing here? Reaching around behind his neck, he fumbled with the locket on the chain he wore until he got it back around to the front and opened it. Groaning, he pulled out the miniature bottle that rested inside. It resized the moment it was out and he eagerly downed the contents, feeling his hangover, and the other side effects begin to fade away.

With a sigh of relief, he gripped the chain firmly and gave it two short, sharp tugs.

Nothing happened. The second tendrils of unease swirled around his stomach and he quickly tried again. The portkey didn't activate. Glaring at the chain, he sighed and looked around the room, confusion, and then panic flashing across his face.

There were books on the desk. Parchment, ink ands quills littered it. His old school cauldron, looking far newer then it had last time he had seen it was in the corner of the room and his Firebolt was resting against the wall. He focused on the broom, trying to make sense of what he saw. The broom has been destroyed in his seventh year, burnt up when he cancelled the speed control charm on it to escape the death eaters… he still remembered every moment of that wild ride.

Rising to his feet, he got the second shock of the morning. Harry had never been that tall. The Dursleys had ruined any chance he ever had of that by trying to starve him to death, but he hadn't been _this_ small in years. His clothing was hanging off of him and it wasn't because they were Dudley's cast-offs. He was still in the same outfit he had worn to the club the previous night. With trembling fingers, he opened his shirt. Both nipple piercings were still in place. Pushing the left hand sleeve down a bit to expose his shoulder, he could still see the top of the Celtic style eagle that covered his left arm, shoulder and part of his neck. A de-aging potion?

"BOY!"

The yell made him jump. Shaking his head to try to regain some equilibrium, he decided to play along for the moment, at least until he had a better idea of what was going on, "I'll be down in a minute." He called back and then made a beeline for the shower, stripping off the club gear as he went.

Standing naked, on front of the mirror twenty minutes later, he desperately tried to reconcile what he was seeing with what his brain was telling him should be there. He was fourteen again, his body only just beginning to mature. The tattoos were still there, but they looked strangely out of place on his partially developed body. They had been originally done over layers of muscle, muscle that was now mostly gone and they seemed almost… lopsided. The piercings were another story. The one in the nape of his neck was invisible under his still waist length hair, along with the ones in his ears and the small rings in his nipples didn't look that bad. Even the Prince Albert and ampallang weren't that out of place. He had always been… disproportionate in that department. Explaining how a fourteen year old had managed to get not one but two genital piercings might be a problem though.

Darting back into his room, he sorted through the clothing Dudley had outgrown until he found a pair of black jeans from about two years previous that were just about long enough for him to get away with and a plain black long-sleeved shirt with a high enough collar to cover his neck. A glamour charm took care of the top of the tattoo on his neck and he quickly plaited his hair and tied it off with a conjured band, hoping that if somehow it _was_ his uncle downstairs, he wouldn't notice the length of his hair against the shirt.

The house was just like he remembered it from the summer before his forth year. Even the trophies Dudley had gone on to win in boxing were missing from the mantelpiece. Forcing those thoughts from his mind, he made his way into the kitchen. Vernon Dursley, or someone who looked remarkably like him was sitting at the kitchen table, across from his son. Hesitating for a moment, Harry made a snap decision and carefully reached out with a hissed command of _'legilmens'_. The thoughts going through the man's head were those Harry would have expected of Vernon Dursley. In fact, the man _was_ Vernon Dursley and as far as he was concerned it was the 20th August 1994. His eyes flashed over Petunia and Dudley and he had to fight to keep the expression off of his face as he got the exact same results for both of them.

Breakfast, unsurprisingly, passed in silence. By the time he had finished eating; Harry had decided to take the situation at face value. Somehow or another, he had been dumped into the past. He'd continue to take things as they came until either a) he had proof that this was real, or b) if it wasn't real, he figured out who was responsible and killed them.

It was early afternoon when Harry finished his chores. Really, it should have taken him longer, but magic was tracked by spell usage and Harry had long been adept at using intent rather then spells. He remembered sadly how annoyed it had always made Hermione that she couldn't do it. Her logical, orderly mind simply couldn't _not_ use the spell. Ron had never been particularly good at it either, but for a very different reason. The thought gave him pause, pulling his mind back to the previous night… he could clearly remember, in the swirl of heat and light and drug-fuelled euphoria, wishing, wanting a second chance to make Ron and Hermione understand, to make them see him and not the Boy-Who-Lived. He was arguably the most powerful wizard in the world. He was also one of only a handful of people capable of using high level magic with intent, rather then spells. Could his drunken, high wish have been taken as intent by his own magic?

He blindly entered his room and sat down on the bed, trying to sort his thoughts out… The portkey wasn't working. The last clear memory he had was triggering it to get home and then waking up here. He hands shot up to the chain, and opened the locket, his eyes widening as he remembered one of the items he always carried with him and his own thoughts identifying which of the items stored within he was looking for. There was nothing in it when it spilled open onto this palm.

The Time-Splitter wasn't exactly illegal. Of dubious nature, yes and most definitely not something the wizarding world would like the idea of its hero owning, but not illegal. It took you a half-second out of time with everything around you. Useful in a fight though very unfair, to Harry, its main use was for avoiding the reporters who frequently took up residence outside his front door. When he had bought it, he had been given a warning. Don't ever, ever use a portkey at the same time. Portkeys worked by pulling you across the time and space between you and your destination at a fraction under the speed of light. The half-second difference the Time-Splitter made could very well push the traveller to that speed. No one who had ever tried it had been found.

He hadn't consciously activated the Time-Splitter, but could he have done it accidentally? Accidental intent magic was hardly rare. "Merlin…" he breathed out. If he was right… well, it might be enough to get the Time-Splitters declared illegal and there was no way he wanted that to happen.

Running a hand through his hair, he jumped to his feet and began pacing. Here and now, he was getting ready to start his forth year at Hogwarts, the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The year of Voldemort's return and of Cedric Diggory's death. The year his life pretty much went to hell. And now he was getting the chance to do it again. Sometime around the end of the week, Wormtail would kill Frank Bryce. The first strike in the second war. The war itself wasn't going to be long or even that bad. Or at least it hadn't been the first time round. Surely, he could speed it up a bit this time as well? Another thought demanded his attention, Dumbledore.

The Old Man had pretty much decided that the wizarding world was more important then he was. He had destroyed Harry's childhood, ran his adolescent like his own private chess game and made sure that any adulthood Harry lived to see was a mockery of everything he had fought for. It was not a future the suddenly teenaged boy was looking forward to. But how to make Dumbledore back off? Telling him the truth was out of the question. Dumbledore was as guilty as everyone else of seeing The Boy Who Lived, the Weapon against Voldemort, rather then the child and the old man was worse then anyone Harry had ever met for not being able to admit his mistakes. Dumbledore would be far more interested and worried about turning Harry back into the Gryffindor Golden Boy then taking his information seriously and that was if he even believed him.

Harry paused his pacing on front of the window, absently tugging his plait. The two things Dumbledore held over Harry were information and adulthood. The latter only time could fix, but the former could be severely weakened, if not destroyed by a few carefully made plans. First, he needed to write some letters. Secondly, he needed to get some new clothing and third, he needed to sit down and have a long talk with his aunt and uncle.

Taking the desk chair, he felt the leg creek beneath him. He stood back up, new plan. First, he'd sort out his room, then he's write the letters. Concentrating on the bookshelves above his bed, he felt his magic flow along his arms. He pictured in his head clearly what he wanted and sent that _intent_ to the magic in his fingertips. The bookshelves disappeared, along with the rest of the furniture and for a heartbeat the space was empty before a large four-poster bed with black silk sheet, curtains and a forest green duvet in the same material appeared where the bed had once been. The pillows were suddenly large and fluffy. For a second, Harry was almost tempted to return to bed.

He quickly worked through the other things he wanted to change; the floor became hardwood with a soft, forest green rug at the side of the bed. The desk changed to heavy oak and became larger with a green leather blotter inset into it. An inkwell inlaid with silver along with a matching quill holder appeared at one side of it. The chair became larger as well, turning from cheap red plastic to expensive black plastic and black leather. Harry sank into it as he continued to let his magic follow the image in his head. The small bookshelf was changed to oak, matching the desk and the bed before growing larger until it almost reached the ceiling. With a smile Harry pushed the chair over to the bookcase, and began to move the books onto it as he absently followed the changes his magic continued to make. The chest of drawers and wardrobe changed to match the rest of the furniture before they flew open and the clothing piled up in the centre of the room. With a glare from the young man, it shrank until it fit in a matchbox. The matchbox went into the back of the bottom drawer. The tattered curtains that covered the windows turned to heavy velvet, the same colour as the rug and with a sigh of relief; he finally changed the walls to cream.

He leaned back into the comfortable chair and pulled a sheet of parchment out of the top drawer of the desk, followed by a quill, and began to write.

"_The Record's Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

_Dear Sir/Madam,_

_I have recently been wondering more and more about what happened to me and my parents on the Halloween Night, 1981. There seems to be little information in the public domain beyond the basic story of what happened._

_I am aware that it is not always a good idea of give children any and all information that they want, but as the only known survivor of that night, I feel I should be entitled to this information, if you have it. The few scattered memories I have of the night, dug up by the dementers during the last school year and given me some information, but not a huge amount and given me more questions then ever before._

_If there is anymore information on that night, I would greatly appreciate it, as the questions are slowly driving me mad._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Harry James Potter."_

He signed his name and read over the letter one more time. It sounded like a fourteen year old, he decided. He just hoped he got the reply he wanted. Folding the letter and addressing it, he put it to one side, noticing Hedwig looking at it expectantly, "I have one more to write, girl." He said softly.

Hedwig hooted and Harry laughed before pulling out another sheet of parchment and frowning at it. He had no idea what to say.

"_Healer Gerrant Llewellyn,_

_St Mungos,_

_Dear Healer Llewellyn,_

_I'm sure you don't get many people voluntarily asking to see you and I'm probably one of the last people you would have expected to be writing this, but something has happened to me that makes me think I might need your help. Can I please make an appointment to see you at your earliest convenience?_

_Yours Sincerely_

_Harry James Potter."_

It wasn't the best letter he had ever written, but at the moment it was more important to get Gerrant's help then anything else. He was probably the only person besides Dumbledore who _could_ help him, and Dumbledore wouldn't.

He folded the letter and after addressing it, gave them both to Hedwig. "Here you go girl and wait for replies, please?"

Hedwig hooted and nipped his fingers. Then she flew out the window.

Harry watched he go before pulling out another sheet of paper. He had one more letter to write.

"_Snuffles,_

_Something strange has happened. It's nothing to worry about, but not something I can explain in a letter. If I seem a little bit off for the next while, don't worry about it and know that an explanation is coming. I have a question that I need answered and I need the answer from someone who will give it to me straight with none of the usual lies, omissions, half-truths and you're-to-young-to-understand speeches. I just need to know and I'm hoping I can trust you to give that to me. Here goes, can I trust Dumbledore to do what's right for me?_

_Harry"_

He underlined the 'me' and looked over the letter again. It was manipulative and Sirius was savvy enough to realise he was being manipulated. He also doubted his godfather would pay any attention to the 'nothing to worry about' bit. In fact, the letter was almost guaranteed to bring Sirius running, but that was the point.

Sirius was still alive; on the run maybe, but alive. He had the chance to save his godfather, and by Merlin he was going to do it. Sirius was also on the very short list of people he completely trusted, a list that currently consisted of only five names, two of whom hadn't even met him yet.

Sighing in irritation at both the direction of his thoughts and his sudden depression over his lost friends, he got up and left the house, locking his bedroom door as he went.

The park was quiet, Dudley was at a party at Malcolm's and most likely wouldn't come round to vandalise it. The late afternoon sunshine was warm enough that he didn't need a jumper, but still cool enough to have driven the young parents and children closer to their homes. He found a tree and sat down at the base, grateful in more then one way that the unseasonable heat of the beginning of the summer had broken.

Now that the initial adrenaline rush of acceptance had passed, he had another worry. His original wish had been to have the chance to change his friend's minds, make then see him, but in the cold light of day, he had to acknowledge that there was precious little he could actually do. Ron was homophobic and incredibly bigoted against anything that didn't fit into his perfect view of the world. He had also been even more obsessed then Molly Weasley with setting him and Ginny up. He had never even tried to understand Harry, preferring to just refuse to deal with the pieces he didn't like. Walking in on him that day had been a slap in a face, forcing Ron to deal with the one thing he absolutely didn't want to. Once word had spread around the Burrow, Ginny had practically tried to kill him for cheating on her, despite the fact that they had broken up.

Hermione… Hermione was a creature of logic, of order. The whirlwind sensual rollercoaster Harry so enjoyed riding at the clubs would hold no attraction to her, nor would she ever be able to see the draw. He also didn't think she would want to. Furthermore, Hermione didn't really understand what the wizarding world had put him through or would as the case may be. She only saw him fighting, acting. Hermione had never been there on the nights when he had cried himself to sleep behind a silencing charm. And even if she had, she wouldn't have understood.

He was a creature of emotion, of sensation. Hermione was not.

He had lost touch with Neville sometime after their combined twenty-first birthday party. The other man had joined the aurors and was a fast rising star whereas Harry had abandoned the wizarding world shortly after graduating. He was also not the easiest person to keep in contact with. Luna had been the only one besides Hermione to keep in real contact with him and when she died… well…

They had grown up and then apart. He had always hoped that one day, Ron would come to his senses, but his former best friend had never been given the chance. After the death of the twins, he had fallen out of contact with the rest of the family, those that would still talk to him anyway. He had still seen Bill and Fluer every once in a while, but Molly had blamed him for her daughter's death and he knew he was _person non grata_ at the Burrow. Ironic that she had never blamed him for Ron's. He never had found out what Arthur thought, but then, the man was rarely allowed his own opinion.

Then there was Remus, who for a short period of time, had tried to fill at least part of the gaping hole inside his adopted godson. The man really had tried, but like Hermione had never really understood the emotions driving the younger man. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, Remus accusing Harry of throwing his life away and Harry pointing out that like everyone else, Remus kept forgetting it was _his_ life to do with what he pleased. Remus hadn't understood his disgust at the wizarding world, or his lack of sympathy for them.

Hedwig found him there as it was beginning to get dark, perching in the tree and dropping two letters onto his lap. He flipped them over, recognising Gerrant's writing on the first one and tearing it open. The letter inside was short and to the point, giving little information to anyone who didn't know Gerrant.

"_Mr Potter,_

_I am at your service from 1pm tomorrow if you can come to my office at St Mungos. If you can't make this meeting, please respond and we can arrange an alternative._

_Gerrant Llewellyn."_

Translation, 'I'm curious and bored, so let's see." Gerrant never had been one to follow either rules or procedures. A genuine 'Indigo Child' as he has once told Harry.

The second letter was a bit longer and rather surprising. Harry has been expecting to have to work a bit to get where the writer was quite willingly sending him:

"_Mr Potter,_

_Unfortunately very little more is known about what happened that night then what is in the public domain. I am aware there is a prophecy relating to yourself and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that is held in the Hall of Prophecies. I am also aware that there are some theoretical dissertations on how you survived being bandied around the Department of Mysteries every once in a while._

_I mentioned your letter to a colleague of mine, who has expressed an interest in talking to you about it. As she is the one person who might be able to answer your questions I have taken the liberty of arranging a meeting for 4pm tomorrow. Hypatia Grayson will meet you in the Ministry Atrium and take you down to the Hall of Prophecy and from there to her office to talk._

_Regards_

_Jonathon Whittaker-Prince"_

Hypatia Grayson. The one person in the entire world, Albus Dumbledore didn't want Harry to even know about the existence of.

Hypatia Grayson, Dark Witch and the world's foremost expert on Assyrian Dark Magic.

Hypatia Grayson, former Unspeakable, Hit-Wizard and once teacher at Hogwarts.

Hypatia Grayson, the word renowned Duelling Champion who had retired undefeated after more then four decades on the platform.

Hypatia Grayson, who attended Hogwarts under the name Hypatia Dumbledore.

A feral smile crossed Harry's lips. He had expected to have to work a lot harder to get in touch with her. "Thank you, Jonathon Whittaker-Prince. You've just made things a lot easier."

**Please review, I would really like to know readers opinions of this story!**


	3. Reforming old Friendships

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 3: Reforming Old friendships**

Standing outside the office of the man who would become his confidant, friend and sometime lover, Harry felt a momentary flash of panic. What if he screwed something up? Gerrant's support was what had given him the strength to move on after first the twins, and then Luna's deaths. He was the person Harry had gone to, to cry and to mourn. His friendship was one of the few things the teenager had valued in his former life. Raising his hand, he knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The voice was the same as Harry remembered, with the tail end of a welsh accent that Gerrant had never quite managed to get rid off. A small and sad smile tugged his lips. The knowledge that he would have to lie to this man was a bitter pain in his heart, but he couldn't help the smile at his old friend. Gerrant's opinion would only work if their relationship couldn't be criticised. For that to happen, Gerrant would have to remain ignorant until after he had worked out the important pieces for himself. Silently vowing to tell the man as soon as it was safe, Harry pushed the door open.

"Healer Llewellyn" Harry said as he was motioned into a chair.

"Mr Potter." He replied with a nod, "Call me Gerrant. Healer Llewellyn makes me feel like I'm in trouble."

Harry grinned, "Call me Harry."

Gerrant nodded. He was a little younger then Harry remembered him being with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to shine with mischief and force of will.

"What can I help you with?"

Harry took a deep breath, "I know my scar connects me to Voldemort."

Gerrant nodded, but didn't flinch, "That makes sense."

"I think it's doing more then that. I think it might be letting him possess me."

Gerrant blinked, "That does explain what you're doing in my office. Why do you think this?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to appear young and confused, "Sometimes I just… know stuff. The information is there, in my head, like it's always been there and I just forgot."

"Can you give me an example?"

"This one time, in primary school, some bullies were chasing me and when they cornered me, I suddenly just knew how to apparate, so I did."

"You just _knew_ how to apparate? And you got it right, first time?"

"It wasn't like I just had the theory." Harry explained, "It… it was like walking, you know how to do it, but you don't need to concentrate that much. You just want to do it and you do."

"Right. That's not a usual sign of possession."

Harry shrugged, "Okay. You're the expert."

Gerrant grinned at the comment, "Yes, I am."

Harry snorted and Gerrant laughed at him. Yep, he was bored, Harry thought. A bored Gerrant Llewellyn was never a good thing, a fun thing maybe, but never a _good_ thing.

"Anything else?" the older man asked.

"Other pieces of information mostly. Not all of it makes sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I seem to know a lot of Dark Magic that I've never studied, or even heard of. And I think Voldemort's a fan of the Rocky Horror Show."

Gerrant snorted and then shook his head, "Alright, any other abilities?"

"Pareltongue?"

He nodded, "I heard about that. That _is_ a sign of possession. Anything else?"

"I know the Arithmancy equation to make a horcrux?"

Gerrant stilled. His eyes wide as he looked at the young man across from him.

"I don't know what a horcrux _is_, but I'm pretty sure I can make one."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Gerrant said softly.

Harry waited, knowing Gerrant wasn't the type to decide he was suddenly 'too young' to know something.

"You'd probably end up in Azkaban."

"What?"

"A horcrux is an object used to store a part of your soul in. A way of cheating death. It's considered to be the darkest of dark magic. Tell me Harry, if you know the equation, you must know the rune it forms. What is it?"

Harry hesitated, trying to give the impression he'd never really thought about it, "Toten. Death"

Gerrant nodded, "To make a horcrux, you must take a life."

Harry let out a breath, "Right. I won't be making any of them then."

"Did Voldemort…"

Harry nodded, "I think so. More then one. He seems a bit obsessed by them."

They talked about what was common knowledge about Voldemort for a few minutes, before Harry brought up the other thing he wanted to talk to Gerrant about, "I get weird dreams sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Gerrant asked from where he was making tea.

"I dream I'm Voldemort. Or his snake. I do not recommend snake milk."

"You dream you're a Dark Lord?"

"No. I dream I'm Voldemort. It's like I'm inside his head, seeing through his eyes, talking through his mouth. I'm part of his thoughts, but… separate at the same time. Like I know I'm not in control, I'm not really him…" Harry trailed off.

"Reverse Possession? It's been theorized before."

"What do you mean?"

"Possession is when someone comes into you and takes you over. Reverse Possession is where you would be pulled into them and kept there, unable to influence their movements or actions, but conscious of them as if doing them yourself. It's been theorized, as I said, but never proved… or successfully attempted either."

Harry frowned, "It used to happen really rarely, only once every year or so. But it's getting more frequent."

"What do you mean?" Gerrant asked as he handed him his tea.

"Thank you. It's happened four times since so far this year. Twice since I came home from Hogwarts."

"Find out anything interesting?"

"Maybe, but I don't understand much of it."

"Go ahead."

"Voldemort is having someone he keeps calling 'The Boy' or his 'Most Loyal' use polyjuice potion to pretend to be someone called Moody to get into Hogwarts. He's to enter me into 'the tournament' and then rig it so that I win. The trophy is a portkey and will send me somewhere. They haven't said where though, or why."

"And you got all that from one trip into his head?"

"No, the bit about getting the Boy into Hogwarts I got from when they made the plan to rescue the Boy, just after school ended. The Tournament bit was from the night before last."

"I can see why you think you might be possessed."

The afternoon passed quickly. Gerrant ran some tests to check if Harry was possessed and they came negative. They did find something though, which Harry knew to be the Horcrux, not that he told Gerrant. The older man, with a true challenge to occupy his mind, was in his element and Harry suspected he'd have it worked out by the end of the week. Harry couldn't help but compare him to a house elf left alone in a filthy house, he was that excited. Gerrant had looked vaguely surprised at the comparison before being distracted by a new thought on the problem. Harry had left him in peace.

He left St Mungos at three o clock and managed a quick shopping trip on is way to the Ministry. Three pairs of jeans, a pair of pyjamas and six T-shirt, some work out gear along with a week's worth of underwear went into his pocket under a shrinking charm and he darted into a shoe shop to grab a pair to trainers and a pair of Doc Martins as well. He just hoped he got the size right.

Name Tag, with _'Harry Potter, Meeting with Hypatia Grayson' _in place he waited as the telephone booth sank into the ground and deposited him in the Atrium where an auburn haired woman in dark green robes was waiting for him.

Hypatia Grayson was just as Harry remembered her being in the future, tall, slim and regal. She had the bearing of her name sake, the last librarian of Alexandria. Harry grinned, unable to stop the memory of her drunk and passed out in a nightclub after a party from popping up. It went against the image of Hypatia Grayson to the point where he doubted anyone would believed the memory was real, "Mr Potter." She held out her hand.

He shook the delicate hand gently in his own and shook it only once before letting go, "Mrs Grayson."

"Old Jonnie Records showed me a very interesting letter yesterday, Mr Potter. I assumed you would go to Albus Dumbledore with any queries you had about that night."

"The Headmaster has been most unwilling to tell me anything. I figured that not everyone would want to coddle me as much as he does."

Hypatia blinked and smirked, "No, I wouldn't imagine every one else would want to Mr Potter. In fact, I'd imagine that quite a few people would like to hurt you rather the _molly_coddle you."

Harry winced, but nodded. Molly Weasley had been one of the worst manipulations that Harry could lay at Dumbledore's feet.

Hypatia nodded in response, internally impressed that the young boy had realised what had happened and then said, "Follow me."

"Where are we going?" he asked, as he followed her.

"There is a prophecy believed to be regarding you and He-Who-Everyone-Insists-on-Hyphenating-The-Name-Of. I am taking you down to the Hall of Prophecies to hear it. Then we will retire to my office and discuss your questions… and your past."

Harry sniggered at the title she gave Voldemort and then blinked; there was a definite undertone of danger in Hypatia's tone. Although he had heard it before, this was the first time he had ever had it directed at himself. Harry decided he didn't like it one bit.

They took the lift in silence. For some reason every time anyone who was waiting saw Hypatia, they immediately decided to wait for the next one. Hiding halfway behind the woman, Harry managed to remain unidentified. The last thing he needed was for some well meaning sheep to tell Dumbledore Harry was wondering around the ministry with none other then Hypatia Grayson.

A few minutes later, facing the corridor that led to the door leading in the Hall of Prophesy, Harry suddenly felt incredibly unwilling to go any further. Memories of the first time he had heard the prophecy flittered around his head. _Sirius…_ With a jolt, he remembered that Sirius was alive and well. He had nothing to fear this time. Straightening his shoulders, he followed the taller woman into the hall.

It was the exact same as the last time he had been there, at the end of the fifth year in another world. Stacks of shelves ran in every direction, filled with row upon row of silvery orbs. Hypatia didn't hesitate and turned to follow one row in particular. It was strangely easy to follow her, Harry realised, when he wasn't following the exact route of his original journey. That was until she stopped on front of a very familiar shelf. It was the shelf he had seen for a million nights in his nightmares and dreams.

_S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D_

_Dark Lord and Harry Potter?_

The words stood there, once again sealing he fate. He had thought that this was over. The war, the expectation… The wizarding world… He had left it all behind him, but now, his own stupidity had brought him back to it. Not this time. He wasn't going to be the wizarding world's scapegoat. He wasn't going to be their hero. He's fight Voldemort for his freedom, not for anyone else. A look of determination crossed his face as he reached up and took the prophecy down.

"Tap it with your wand." Hypatia said her face unreadable.

They watched in silence as the words were spoken, words that Harry had first heard an age ago, yet not for another two years. He sighed as the recording stopped; the entire time thing was giving him a headache.

"Let's go to my office."

HP

Sitting in Hypatia's office, staring unseeing at the wall, he sipped the tea she had given him. She sat on the other side of the desk watching him stare into space. Eventually, he turned to look at her, "Do you know how I survived the Killing Curse?"

Hypatia leaned back, "No. I have theory or two and the prophecy does suggest another method, but I don't know for definite, nor do I want to discuss it until I have had time to put the new information to test. Why are you wearing a glamour on your neck?"

Harry blinked slowly at her, surprised she had noticed, then cursing himself for not realising she would. Still, he desperately wanted to tell someone what had happened to him… and Hypatia was one of the few he trusted in the future. "It's to cover a tattoo."

Now it was Hypatia's turn to blink, "When did you get a tattoo, Mr Potter?"

"About three years from now." He said with a smirk. He waited for her eyebrow to rise before he launched into the story of the last forty eight hours of his life.

Two hours and four cups of tea later, he smiled slightly as he watched Hypatia rapidly scratching equations onto a piece of paper.

"It does kind of make sense." She said slowly, reading over what she had written.

"Could you explain it?"

"Two people can't exist in the same place. The same person can't exist twice at the same time either. A Time-Turner sends the future version of a person into the past, but the original person still has to leave, creating a small loop which the Time-Turner keeps separate until the original person leaves. A Time Splitter moves a person half a second out of time, so they exist _outside_ of time. I would imagine that the Time Splitter took you into that place between moments, where time does not exist and the portkey and Time Splitter combined to take you out of it into another time and place. That put you in the same time twice, so you literally merged into your existing person."

"Oh."

"While your young body was able to take on the… ornamentation of your future body, it was the one linked to this time, thus you are now fourteen, rather then somewhere in your late teens or early twenties. Fascinating really. At a later date, if you are willing, I would like to do an indebt study?"

Harry willingly agreed, knowing that Hypatia, unlike Hermione would be willing to listen to him and work around him rather then just decreeing and demanding.

"Were we friends in the future… Harry?"

"Yes, Tia, we were."

Hypatia nodded once and then smiled, "I would like to be friends again then."

Harry smiled, "Do would I."

"Can I see your tattoos?" she sounded almost giddy.

Harry laughed and standing up began to undo his shirt.

HP

It was late evening when Harry returned to Privet Drive, whistling casually as he walked up the road. The afternoon with Tia had gone well, after she had looked over the tattoos, she had asked a few more personal questions which Harry had answered truthfully. Yes, they had been lovers in future, although of the 'friends with benefits' variety and yes, he hoped they would have the chance in this time too. They had flirted a bit after that, neither of them taking it very far. As curious as Tia was and as much as Harry wanted, he was still a year away from it being legal. They both had too many enemies to risk doing anything in the middle of the ministry buildings. On the other hand, as Tia had pointed out, if they ran into each other were there weren't so many witnesses, who knew what would happen? Tia seemed willing to deal with him as he mentally was, twenty-eight and ignore the physical side for now.

He almost found himself looking around for Order members hiding in the bushes as he reached Privet Drive before remembering that they wouldn't be there until next year. Shaking his head at his own paranoia, he almost jumped at the sudden growl from the other side of the garden gate. Looking down in surprise at the bulldog, he paled, "Ripper…"

For a moment, he couldn't move as the dog growled at him, then with a shake of his head, he put his hand on the gate, "How could I have forgotten Marge would be here."

A quick bit of magic and a steak later, Ripper was his new best friend. Walking up the pathway with the dog at his heels, he remembered with some amusement what had happened last year. Blowing Marge up had been fun, but it had put him even further in Dumbledore's debt, although at the time he hadn't realised it. This time round, he would originally have kept out of her way by staying in his room or the park all day and then not eating with his family. It had worked to keep him out of trouble, but it had left a bitter-tasting bile in his mouth until he had left the house. Speaking of which, he was due to get a letter sometime this week about the Quidditch World Cup.

It was time to start changing things. He had no intention of continuing on the way he had originally, or was he a good enough actor to contemplate trying to pretend to be that young, innocent, _naive_ and trusting boy. If the wizarding world was going to label him insane, he'd damn well give them a reason to. He'd already laid the ground work with Gerrant who could testify that he was not possessed. Hypatia was already looking for the horcuxi as she had once told Harry the correct plural of the word should be.

All that was left was for Voldemort to get his body back and the Dark Lord was already handling that one himself. Gerrant knew about the plan and knowing him, had already put two and two together. Tia would contact him later that week to explain what was going on, once no one would associate her wanting to talk to him about his celebrity patient.

Opening the door he made his way towards the stairs, hoping to avoid the confrontation with his aunt. Unlike previous times though, this had more to do with his impending departure, then anything else. He had no intention of ever returning here, despite what Dumbledore said. Luck however, was not on his side. He had just taken the first step when Marge barged through the door, "So, you finally came home, then?"

Harry's shoulders tensed, it was now or never, "I'm sure you would probably prefer not to see me, _Miss _Dursley, so I went out.

Her piggy little eyes hardened at his tone and even more at the title, "I see you haven't learned any manners, boy."

"Oh, I have plenty of manners, there just isn't much point wasting them on a pig in human clothing. I don't think you'd understand them."

Marge seemed too shocked to reply to that for a moment, so Harry continued,

"Even your dogs, mutts that they are, have better manner then you and a better understanding of what they mean. Ripper at least appreciates kindness. All you and your family seem to understand is abuse."

"Why you…" she raised a hand

"Now auntie dearest, you wouldn't be about to _hit_ a child, would you? That could get you locked up and then who would mind your precious dogs?"

"You wouldn't dare…" she began to stutter.

Harry took a step down to her, an evil smile forming on his face, "Oh, but aunt dearest, I have nothing to lose anymore. I have no intention of coming back here next year. After thirteen years of abuse, you deserve everything I can do to you."

For some reason, Marge Dursley was suddenly terrified of her despised nephew. It was almost like magic.

Harry leaned in close, so he could whisper in her ear, "You had better be glad that I'm not as big a bitch as you are, auntie dearest. Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours." His voice held an arctic chill to it. In that moment, Marge was absolutely convinced that Harry would kill her in a heartbeat and she paled immediately. Smirking at her, he turned and began climbing the stairs. Suddenly he turned to look at his pale aunt, "Oh, and call off your dogs."

The next day, Marge left, telling Vernon that she wasn't feeling well. Harry was just returning from his jog when he seen Vernon's car pull away from the curb with Marge in the back. Checking his old wrist watch, he couldn't help smirking; Vernon was leaving for work over an hour early to drop Marge back. Last time round, she had stayed for dinner, which meant Harry had never got any. She was also, he suspected the person who gave Dudley the money for the doughnuts he was going to smuggle in.

Harry spent most of the rest of the day finishing up his summer homework and then went downstairs to make dinner, realising as he did so that he never had got around to having that conversation with the Dursleys. On the other hand, he wasn't sure there was a point to it. He would have to tell them he wasn't coming back, but surely a letter would suffice? Dinner passed in silence, although Vernon's glares suggested that he suspected his nephew had something to do with Marge leaving earlier then planned. Harry ignored him and quickly finished the low fat meal he had made from the diet sheet.

He was just about to head back upstairs after tidying up the kitchen when something out the sitting room window caught his attention; sitting across the street from number 4 was a big black dog.

Harry glanced quickly around the rest of the room. Petunia and Vernon were watching Eastenders. Dudley, Harry knew was upstairs stuffing his face with doughnuts. Ignoring his relatives, he went out the door and began to walk down the street towards the shops. Picking up a couple of packets of sandwiches and two cans of coke, he changed direction and headed for the park, walking well into the nature reserve at the south end. Once he was deep enough in, he turned to face the dog, and then burst into tears.

**Please Review!!! And a big thank you to all the people who have reviewed :)**

**Author's Notes:** As can be seen from this chapter there will be _implied_ chan in this story. Please keep in mind that Harry is not really fourteen, mentally he is twenty-eight. If you are unsure that to expect from this story, please read the summery which lists the applicable warnings.


	4. Grim Prophet of Death

**Extra Disclaimer:** The letter is from _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, page 37 from the paperback Bloomsbury (UK) edition.

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 4: The Grim, Prophet of Death**

Whatever Sirius Black, escaped mass murderer (although innocent), Death Eater (innocent again), The DMLE's Most Wanted (see previous), Member of the Order of the Phoenix (they know the truth about the first two bits) and godfather to the boy currently crying his eyes out against his robes (don't ask) was expecting after getting Harry's letter, this was not it. With no idea what else to do, Sirius simply held the boy to him, rubbed his back and murmured soothing nonsense until Harry began to quiet down.

Eventually the crying turned into hiccupping sobs before beginning to slow and stop. Pulling away from Sirius, slowly, he smiled a little, "Hi Sirius."

"Harry, are you okay?" Sirius waved his wand and cleaned them up as he spoke.

"I'm fine, just a little rattled. Here." He handed over the bag of food after pulling out a can for himself. Sitting down, he made himself comfortable while Sirius quickly polished off the meal.

"Alright," he said, as he finished, "The letter?"

"Do you believe in fate?"

"What?" Sirius was startled, then shaking his head he said, "To some extent. I know that some prophesies are real, but in general, not really."

"There's a prophecy about me and Voldemort. One of us has to kill the other."

"Dumbledore didn't tell you that; did he? Harry…"

Green eyes blazing, Harry replied, "He should have told me in first year."

Sirius blinked and then shrugged, "Maybe." Then he sighed, "But telling an eleven year old… Doing that to a child…"

Harry snorted, "I haven't been a 'child' since I was four years old, Sirius, Dumbledore seen to that when he put me with my 'loving' relatives. He chose to have me grow up too fast, but now he treats me like I'm still four."

"I can see how you'd view it that way." Sirius said with a slight smile.

"You have no idea. How's you occulmuncy?"

Raising an eyebrow, Sirius said, "Up to scratch. I've had plenty of practice."

"Good." Harry grinned, "Because what I'm about to tell you goes no further, not Dumbledore, not the Weasleys, not even Remus, understood?"

"What? Why can't I tell Remus?"

Harry looked him straight in the eye, suddenly appearing a lot older then fourteen, "Because what Remus wants from me, I can't give him."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a hero, Sirius. I'm not even a particularly good person. Remus wants me to be the Gryffindor Golden Boy forever and I've already got bored playing it. The wizarding world can go screw itself. I shouldn't be anyone's role-model."

"No one is going to take that well."

"You're right. By the end of this year, I very much doubt I will have many friends. Do I have you're word."

"You have it, but first, how did you find out about the prophecy?"

Harry smiled evilly, "A very nice woman named Hypatia Grayson."

HP

It was long dark and Harry and Sirius had lit a small fire on the ground between them. After getting over the shock that Harry had gone to Grayson, Sirius had laughed himself almost sick thinking about Dumbledore's reaction to that bit of news. He had been less then impressed when Harry had told him the rest of the story. As with Tia, Harry had left nothing out about the previous two days and summed up the rest of his life, cancelling the glamour to show Sirius his tattoos and piercings. Sirius had turned a little green at the Prince Albert and ampallang.

"So, let me get this straight, you're from the future, where you accidentally sent yourself back in time using a portkey, a Time-Splitter and intent magic?"

"Pretty much."

"You're twenty eight and you have already beaten Voldemort. Dumbledore and I are both dead and you've left the wizarding world."

"Not quite left. I just don't spend much time there unless I need to. I don't like being gawked at or having people question my sanity on a regular basis. You have no idea how tempting it was to just leave after fifth year and let the damned sheeple deal with Voldemort. They have no right to ask anything of me, but will they leave me alone?"

"Only you Harry, only you." Sirius shook his head and looked up at the stars, "Why do you have a problem with Remus?"

"He was alright when I originally left the wizarding world, back when he had somehow convinced himself that I was only gone for a few months. As time passed he began to pressure me more and more to return, to take my rightful place or some such bullshit. He wanted me to go into the ministry and change the world. When I wouldn't, he started in on how disappointed my parents and you would be with me for wasting my life. At which point, I told him I though you three would agree I deserved to do whatever I wanted with my life and kicked him out." Harry sighed, that fight hadn't been pleasant.

"Eventually we met up again and we were alright for a while, but then he found out something he didn't like and lo and behold we're back to 'living in a cesspit' and 'wasting my life', so I booted him out again and told him that what he and everyone else kept forgetting was that it was _my_ life and I would live it how I chose. I haven't seen him since."

"When was that?" Sirius didn't sound happy.

"From my perspective, you mean? About three years ago."

Sirius grunted, "What did he find out?"

Harry took a deep breath and then steeled himself, "That I take drugs on a regular basis."

Sirius' eyes widened, "That is not good."

Harry sighed, "I'm damaged goods, Sirius. I have been since I was a year old. I enjoyed my life. My only regrets were that no one in the wizarding world ever seen me as 'Harry' and no one would ever let me be. If I can salvage some shred of peace while under their influence, if I can simply let go and enjoy myself, then why shouldn't I? What makes me so different from all the other people that I should have to deny myself something I enjoy just so I can be 'good'?"

Sirius didn't look happy, but having heard what his godson had gone through, he wasn't going to argue with him.

They sat in silence for a while then, simply enjoying each other's company, before eventually, Sirius had to leave. Harry smiled and gently petted the dog, "Stay safe, Sirius, and don't let Dumbledore lock you away this time."

With a bark that Harry took to be a 'yes', Sirius licked his hand once and lopped off through the trees. Harry stood watching until Sirius was out of sight and then turned to face the rising sun and make his way home.

Pig was waiting for him when he got home, fluttering around his bedroom, much to Hedwig's annoyance. Grinning easily, Harry accioed the owl and retrieved the letter from his leg.

_Harry - DAD GOT THE TICKETS – Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday Night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to see if you can stay. They might already have the letter; I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd sent this with Pig anyway. We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can't miss the Wold Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto and we'll come and get you at five o' clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o' clock on Sunday anyway._

_Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work – the Department of International magical Co-operation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you._

_See you soon – Ron._

Harry grinned. Even knowing the future, there was an infectious quality about Ron's obsession with quidditch that nothing could dampen, not even his memories.

"BOY!"

Groaning at the memory of Mrs Weasley's letter, he quickly shoved Pig into Hedwig's cage and closed it, ignoring the annoyed hoot from the top of his wardrobe. Then dumping the letter onto his desk, he went downstairs to deal with his irate uncle.

Vernon stood in the middle of the sitting room, but Harry's sense of déjà vu at the coming argument was cut short. Vernon had the letter open and had obviously read it at least once already.

"Did you know about this?" he growled, turning a shade of purple that Harry didn't think existed in the natural world at his nephew's nod.

"I just got a letter from Ron about it."

Vernon glared at the letter again, almost shaking with rage, "Do you really think you're going to get to go, Boy?" he waved the envelope in Harry's face, "After this?"

For a second, Harry considered playing it the same way he had the first time round, but a wave of utter loathing stopped him in his tracks. This was the man who had ruined his cousin and tried to destroy him. This was the man who had done more then even Severus Snape to try to break him.

Turning killing curse eyes to meet his uncle's, Harry said in a voice laced with venom, "No, I don't _expect_ to go, I _know_ I will go."

"You…you _know_… Now see hear, you little brat, you will do as we tell you! We feed you, cloth you, give you a roof over your head…" Vernon didn't appear able to continue as he paled and then flushed an angry red, "Why you…"

"No." Stepping close to him as he had done with Marge, Harry let all the hatred, all the venom, all the strength, all the dangerous power and willingness to do what it took to survive and to win his twenty-eight year old self had possessed and poured it all into his voice, "I will go, Vernon Dursley and you will do nothing about it because if you do, I will kill you."

And Vernon Dursley believed him.

Back in his bedroom, Harry shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. It had been a long time since that ruthless, determined, murderous side of him had been given free rein. It was the part of him that had kept him alive through the abuse, the attempts on his life and the abandonment and deaths of friends and loved ones. It was the part that had allowed him to look his father in the face and kill him.

Facing Marge had been easy, just the bitter resentment and anger that he felt for her. He hadn't tapped into any of the deeper emotions, let them flash in his eyes maybe, so she knew he was serious, but he hadn't actually called up anything of those things that had very nearly destroyed him at the end of seventh year. For some reason Vernon just made it so easy to forget the dangers. It had been almost five years since he had come that close to totally loosing control and all it took was a few words from Vernon Dursley. His plan to not return next year was beginning to look like a necessity rather then a nice present to himself.

If Vernon alone could set him off this easily… He shuddered again, there was no telling what Dudley and his gang would be able to do. He sat down, suddenly pale; was he even safe at school? Yes, he had mostly fought with Malfoy and his goons for Ron's sake, but every now and then Snape and Malfoy had genuinely managed to rile him up. How much of his current control issues were temporal inertia caused by the time jump and his merge with his teenage self and how much was the suddenly alive link with Voldemort? Possibly more importantly; how much of it was him being out of practise controlling himself?

"Shit…"

Shaking his head at his own morbid thinking, he stood back up and went to the desk, penning a quick letter to Ron and the Weasley's saying that he could go, then pulling Pig back out of Hedwig's cage, he tried the note to the miniature owl and tossed it out the window, idly wondering where Hedwig was when a glance at the top of the wardrobe showed it to be empty.

Sinking back into the chair, he contemplated the situation. His letter had brought Sirius back into the country a lot earlier then he should have returned. On the other hand, Sirius was now aware of what was coming. Frank Bryce had, if he remembered the sequence of events correctly been killed the night before and he would have sent a letter about it to Sirius today. The difference of course, was that this time occulmuncy shields that had over ten years of work on them made sure that nothing got into his head that Harry didn't want there.

Tomorrow, Ron, Mr Weasley and the Twins would arrive to collect him though the floo… he might have to make sure that didn't go as badly this time. Absently tapping his finger on the desk he considered the other problem he was going to have the next day. If his reaction to Sirius was anything to go by, meeting the people who to him had died was not going to go smoothly. He and Ron may not have been on the best of terms when Ron died, but as he had told Hermione, he had always held out hope that Ron would come around. And then there were the twins… He hugged himself again; their deaths had very nearly destroyed him as well as paving the way for his eventual decline into alcohol and drug abuse. He had never become truly addicted or even dependant on them, but more then one person had wondered if those six months has been an attempt at passive suicide. Harry wasn't sure they hadn't been.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the previous evening and he remembered the cakes that were hidden under the loose floorboard with a soft sigh. Everything had been so much easier as they were now. The future hadn't seemed that dark or as bleak. Pulling out a piece of birthday cake, he wondered how much of a difference he could really make.

HP

The next morning the entire Dursley household was walking on eggshells. Harry didn't want to make the impending explosion worse since he wasn't quite sure that he could stop the twin's prank and even if he could, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Vernon was still trying to get over the absolute terror his nephew had inspired in him the previous day, his fundamental need to keep Harry downtrodden warring with his desire to get rid of the boy and the fear of the repercussions of changing his mind and refusing permission for him to go.

Dudley was pale and kept checking to make sure the pig's tail Hagrid had given him hadn't suddenly reappeared. Harry had no idea what was going through Petunia's mind and quite frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to after one look at the pinched expression on her face. He had, however, fixed the fire place so that when the floo connection activated, the fire would swing out of the way, letting the red-heads fall into the sitting room, hopefully soot free.

In the end a gentle _nudge_ sent the Dursleys to a restaurant for an early dinner and left Harry to wait for five o' clock by himself. It was both a relief to be alone and an annoyance as he now had nothing to take his mind off of the wait.

Sighing, he checked everything was in his trunk for the hundredth time and then plonked himself down on the couch to wait. Memories flashed through his mind, focusing mainly around the twins as he fought for control. The seconds ticked by as he let the tears fall. What was with the emotional twerp routine? Shaking his head, he began to take deep claming breaths, letting the breathing lull him into a light trance and then he began to steadily ready his mind and body for the massive shock they were about to receive. It would be difficult enough to avoid arousing suspicion in the first few minutes. Anything he could do to help keep his composure was worth it to avoid giving Mrs Weasley anymore reason to restrain him then she already had.

The fire burped and then swung out to one side, revealing a portal filled with flickering green light.

Arthur Weasley stepped out of the fire, looking around in delight. His eyes settled on Harry who sat on the couch, a strained smile on his lips as he took in the young man who came behind him, "Mr Weasley… Fred…" He nearly lost it then, as he watched George coming out, "G…George, good to see you two."

"Harry, how you are?"

"I'm good, Mr Weasley…" he hadn't taken his eyes of off the twins who were looking at him in confusion. Dragging his eyes away from them, he gave Mr Weasley a rather weak smile and was then happily distracted by Ron grabbing him in a one-armed hug, "How are you doing, mate?"

"Fine…"

Anything else he was about to say was interrupted by Mr Weasley asking about his aunt and uncle.

"Oh, them? They went out to a restaurant to celebrate getting rid of me for the rest of the summer."

Mr Weasley blinked for a moment before saying, "You can't mean that, Harry."

Sighing, he turned to look the older man in the face, "Mr Weasley, my relatives barely tolerate me. If they could have come up with a way of getting rid of me without the neighbours gossiping they would have. There is nothing they would like more in the world then to be rid of me for good. Nothing you can say to _me_ will change the way _they_ feel and nothing they can do at this late stage will make me believe they care anything for me. Can we go now, please?"

Slightly shocked at Harry's simply statements, Mr Weasley could only nod.

"We'll get this then." Fred said, motioning towards Harry's trunk, "We were hoping…"

"… to meet your relatives. Maybe next time." George finished, still looking at Harry, a strange expression on his face, obviously still thinking about his rather bizarre reaction to their arrival.

Hesitating for a moment, but desperately wanting to re-assure them, Harry made a small motion with one hand. Fred nearly dropped the end of the trunk he had been balancing. George, who had been about to pick up the other end stopped and stared at Harry for a moment before smirking, shaking his head and nudging Fred to hurry up.

Mr Weasley seemed vaguely intrigued by the display, before casting an incendio and sending Fred, George and the trunk through the floo. Ron was next, and then Harry took his place and fixed his glasses more firmly on his nose, vaguely wondering if he could get away with a 'miraculous recovery' to get rid of them and the next thing the Boy Who Lived Knew, he was spinning in a world of green before he fell out of the fireplace into the kitchen of the Burrow.

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Now please review this chapter as well ;)**


	5. The Burrow

**Extra Disclaimer:** And now we start the story proper. I will only be deviated from the actual book in areas where Harry's attitudes, actions, thoughts or other's have changed in regards to Harry. Therefore there will be a lot of paraphrasing and direct quotes taken from the book. If I were to label every line as either canon or mine, I would never get anywhere so I have chosen not to. Instead, I will repeat, this belongs to JKR. I'm just playing.

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 5: The Burrow**

Catching his balance as the floo ejected him into the kitchen; he looked around, smiling a little easier at George and Ron before nodding to the two red-heads he shouldn't know.

"How're you doing, Harry?" Charlie said as he held out his hand which Harry willingly took, although with a slightly forced smile on his face.

"You must be Charlie?"

"Yeah" he replied giving him a considering look, "This is Bill." He motioned to the other man who had stood up and held out his hand.

Harry smiled a little easier at the eldest Weasley and hoped that they would put his attitude down to being overwhelmed or some such thing rather then the flashing neon sign pointing to the memory of his last encounter with Charlie.

Anything else was interrupted when the fire turned green again and Mr Weasley came out, smiling at everyone, "Got here alright then? Where's your mother?" he asked the rest of the kitchen.

"I'm here. Hello Harry dear." Mrs Weasley said as she entered the kitchen, followed by two girls. Harry blinked slowly as he looked at the fourteen year old Hermione, with her shy, earnest expression, long bushy hair and overlarge front teeth. Then he blinked again as his memory of the Hermione of the future, with her perfect teeth, shoulder length controlled hair and intent expression refused to be replaced. "Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Ginny." He said, trying to cover up the lapse, "Good to see you again."

"You too, dear, although I must say, your hair is getting long. I'll do something about it later." Mrs Weasley said after looking him over once. Then she swept past him, her attention fixated on the twins who were trying to remain unnoticed, "What did you two do this time?"

"She's right, Harry, your hair has got long if you're tucking it into the back of your shirt."

Harry grinned at Hermione's comment and self-consciously ran his hand over his hair, thankful that it was still tightly plaited and hanging inside his shirt. He was so not looking forward to that conversation, nor was he willing to cut it.

The twin's yelp caught everyone attention, "Us?"

"Nothing. We did nothing. How many times do we have to say it, Mum?"

"Why do I not believe you? All that plotting this morning? What was it for?"

Fred sighed, "Alright, there was a plan, but since Harry's fat cousin wasn't there, we didn't _do_ anything." He folded his arms across his chest, "And no, we didn't leave anything there either. Dad can vouch for that, he sent us through first."

Frowning Harry thought back to the first time this had happened. Mr Weasley had immediately laid into the twins, so he had never realised his wife had been suspecting anything. The fact that she had let them go, intending to punish them on their return made him think less of her.

"Am I in your room again, Ron?" he asked, trying to distract everyone.

It worked, Ron nodding, but Mrs Weasley demanding that the twins help him take his trunk up to the room.

Throwing him a thankful look, they picked it up and headed in the direction of the stairs, the trio and Ginny following them.

"What's all that about?" Harry asked.

George and Fred shared a look while the others laughed, "Look, can we talk to you later about it Harry?"

"We have an idea and well…"

"Going off of earlier…"

"We think a conversation…"

"Is already overdue."

The other's sobered instantly, looking back and forth between the twins and Harry as he agreed.

"Mate?"

"It's alright Ron. This conversation has to happen sometime. It's nothing..."

The door ahead of them suddenly opened and Percy looked out.

"Hi, Percy." Harry said.

"Oh, hello Harry" said Percy, "I was wondering who was making all that noise."

Suddenly remembering how this conversation went, Harry took the initiation, "Sorry about that. You're mum's a bit excitable. You busy?"

"Yes I am. I have a report due in."

"Ouch, I hate writing reports. You hoping to have it finished before the match?"

"Yes, if I could get some peace and quiet..."

"We'll try to keep it down then."

Percy blinked in surprise and thanked him before ducking back inside his room, no doubt to try to reconcile Harry's treatment of him in previous years to now.

Hermione was beaming at him, but Ron asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

The twins looked slightly worried as well.

"Yeah, I'm a guest at your house Ron, its only right to be polite to the people who live here." He shrugged and moved ahead to join the twins when Hermione started lecturing Ron about etiquette. Ginny stood slightly behind Hermione. Harry wasn't sure of the other girl wanted rescuing or not, but there was no way he was going to risk getting involved to get her out.

George pushed open the door to Ron's room and shoved Harry's trunk into the last available place for one. Someone had evidently thought out how to place the four beds to allow for the rest of their stuff to fit in as well. Harry was betting on Hermione. "You're in here with us then?"

"Yeah, Bill and Charlie have our room. How long do you think we have?"

"Not long." Harry said sitting on one of the beds, "This will put a crimp in your style then."

Fred and George looked at each other and then they sat down across from him, "You know then?" George sighed, "I don't think even Mum's worked it out yet."

"Yeah, I do. I'm more observant then most people give me credit for."

Fred looked at him and he explained, "The mark of a good servant is to know what you want before you do. I have been a servant all my life, first for the Dursleys, and now the wizarding world thinks I should be theirs."

Fred snorted, "I suppose that's one way to look at it. Where do we go from here?"

Harry shrugged, "Nowhere unless we all want to. I'm not going to run to your mum and tell her. You're not going to make my life hell for knowing your secret. By the way, you know Ron is homophobic?"

George nodded, "Charlie too. I think he's repressed though."

Harry hummed in agreement.

"You won't tell?"

"Not my business." He hesitated for a moment, "Besides, takes one to know one or two."

The twins looked at him in surprise, George opening his mouth to say something and the door opened, "Really, Ron it's not that difficult…"

"'Mione, give me a break. He's a git!"

"He's your… so this is where you three are?" she changed track.

"Yes, Hermione. We're been waiting here for you."

Hermione crossed her arms and glared, "We should probably go and help your mum with dinner."

"Alright." Ron agreed and let the way out, followed by Hermione, then Ginny.

Fred and George shared a look as Harry stood up and moved towards the door. Reaching out, the red head grabbed his arm and took a step towards him, looking at him intently. Then without warning, he lowered his head and pressed his lips firmly against Harry's. It took a moment for realisation to sink in, and then Harry opened his mouth and let himself melt against the twin holding him. George moved around behind him and pressed against him. They separated slowly, a look of wonder on Fred's face, "You know how to _kiss!_"

Harry smiled, "We better move or they'll come looking for us."

"You understand, Harry? We had to know…"

"I know. Although" Harry said as he pulled the door open, "I hope we can do that again."

"Yeah…" Fred said slowly, still slightly dazed from their kiss.

Harry grinned and suddenly wondered how Fred and George would take finding out that they had originally taught him how to do it.

Downstairs he found Molly working in the kitchen and asked if there was anything he could do to help. She sent him outside with the cutlery as the twins came in, who she overloaded with condiments. For some reason he wasn't quite able to place Harry got the impression she was purposely giving them too much to carry. Shaking his head as he tried to chase away the shadows of the future he made his way outside still vaguely unsettled by being _welcomed_ back to the Burrow.

A load crash made him jump and he looked up to see two tables battling it out in the sky. A small smile crossed his face as he glanced to the ground seeing Bill and Charlie directing the battle with their wands. Another crash almost sent one of the tables to the ground. Harry was sure it was Bill's. To one side Ron, Ginny and Hermione stood, the red heads cheering and Hermione looking like she wanted to take points.

Another crash pulled his attention back to the tables with just enough time for him to jump out of the way of a dismembered leg. A window flew open as he regained his balance and ginned at Bill and Charlie to show he was alright, "Will you keep it down?" Percy bellowed.

"Sorry, Perce," Bill said, colour returning to his face after seeing Harry was alright, "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"

"Very badly," Percy snarled and slammed the window shut.

Chuckling Bill and Charlie lowered the tables onto the grass and Bill reattached the leg and then conjured some table cloths.

A short while later, they were all sitting around the tables, nine red heads and two brunettes happily stuffing themselves on Mrs Weasley's fine cooking. Harry looked around, finally beginning to relax after the emotional rollercoaster of returning to the Burrow. Percy was telling Mr Weasley about his job and a small smile tugged Harry's lips as he remembered Ron's long suffered complaints about his brother's infatuation with his boss. He frowned suddenly as the conversation turned to the missing Bertha Jenkins and a small sigh escaped him. She was already dead at the hands of Wormtail. Their conversation moved on to the 'top secret' project. Despite his feelings of guilt where Percy was concerned, Harry was suddenly and sharply reminded that Percy, up until Ron's death had been a total prat.

"He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is since he started work. Probably and exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons." Ron muttered.

Harry hesitated, tempted to say something, although Tia had said that he could blame any knowledge on her having told him he wasn't sure he wanted Dumbledore to know he had spoken to her yet. On the other hand, he desperately wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what was happening.

Mrs Weasley's voice, at half volume, broke through his dilemma and the moment passed.

"… with a horrible great fang on it, really Bill, what do they say at the bank?"

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure." Bill said.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear!! Mrs Weasley continued, "You need a trim!"

Harry blinked; Mrs Weasley hadn't been this aggressive before. Something had happened that had changed it, something he had done… had stopping the twin's prank made her this irritated?

"I like it" Ginny was saying, "You're so old fashioned, mum. Anyway it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's."

Hermione, who had also been listening, asked suddenly, "Harry, how long _is_ your hair."

She had to have said it at that moment. At the moment when a lull in the conversation made sure everyone heard her. Harry fought the urge to blush and won, barely.

For a moment he considered lying and using a glamour to cover it… but everyone was looking at him…

"Yeah, mate, it's been shoved down your shirt since you got here." Ron added.

He slowly finished the mouthful of mash before saying, "Waist length. I woke up with it that long a few weeks ago."

"You just woke up?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it's happened before. Petunia once cut off all my hair and I spent the night wishing it would grow back and it did. I spent most of that night wishing it was controllable and when I woke up it was waist length, so I just keep it tied back." He smiled shyly, "And it is controllable, so I got what I wished for."

"I think I'll cut it for you, dear, it really is too long…"

"No thank you, Mrs Weasley. I've got used to it and I kind of like it." He smiled again. That was even partly true; he _was_ used to it, having grown it out ten years before after the twins had told him they liked men with long hair. After their death's he had kept it in memory of them.

"Now Harry…" she started, but he didn't let her get going.

"There aren't any rules about it at school; Mrs Weasley and past experience suggest even if you did it would just grow back again. That's been happening for years. And as I said, I like it and want to keep it." Then he resolutely turned to Fred and said, "You really think Krum will make that big a difference?"

"Well yeah…" and the topic turned to other things.

Harry didn't fail to notice the look Mrs Weasley was sending him and suddenly he wasn't sure he'd have to wait for Ginny's death to permanently ban him from the Burrow. It was looking like Mrs Weasley was already turning against him.

Feeling full and relaxed, Harry leaned back after scrapping the last few drops of his ice-cream out of the bowl. "Have you heard from Sirius?" Hermione whispered leaning in close with Ron, worry in their eyes.

"Yeah, I got a couple of letters of off him. He's doing alright."

"Has he said anything interesting?" Ron asked, flicking a look at Percy.

"Not really, but he was somewhere exotic last time he wrote. The letter got delivered by this massive red bird."

Hermione's eyes widened, "He must be in Brazil then."

Harry nodded; satisfied that the next time Snape tore through their minds he would give the aurors the wrong country in that anonymous letter.

A while later the adults ushered them all up to bed with warnings that they would be up at four the next morning. Harry sighed, as much as he would like to apparate, and he knew he could, doing so would raise too many questions. He did resolve to ask Tia if there was any way for him to get the licence early though. He managed to snag the bathroom first and let the glamours fade as he brushed his teeth. He was tempted to leave the earrings visible since he didn't really want to conceal his body anymore then he had to, but in the end he reapplied the entire glamour, not really wanting another argument with Mrs Weasley. He did, however leave the plait hanging over his shoulder and pointedly ignored Ginny as her eyes drank him in as he passed her. He returned to the bedroom and began to change into his new pyjamas, feeling the twins' eyes on him. It was most inappropriate, considering they were not alone, but Harry wasn't able to stop himself giving a little shimmy as he pulled the black silk over his naked butt. The stifled groan from behind him let him know it had been appreciated. He climbed into bed; suddenly feeling exhausted and was asleep within moments.

HP

When Mrs Weasley arrived to wake them, Harry was already up and dressed. He nodded and left the room, letting her wake the others. Mr Weasley was looking over the tickets when he got down the stairs and nodded absently to Harry, not really paying attention as he walked over and checked the porridge in the pot. It wasn't ready, so he picked up the spoon and started stirring it until Mrs Weasley came back down and took over.

Sitting down at the table he watched Mr Weasley fold up the tickets and then grin at him as he stood up, "What do you think, Harry? We're supposed to be incognito- do I look like a muggle."

Harry took in his worn jeans and jumper and grinned, "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Where are Bill and Charlie and Per…Per…Percy?" asked George coming up behind him and absently resting a hand on Harry's shoulder as he tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

"Well they're apparating aren't they?" Mrs Weasley said, "So they can have a bit of a lie in." She brought the pot over and began ladling porridge into the bowls. Fred and George took the seats on either side of Harry and as Mrs Weasley moved around the other side of the table, Fred reached over and slipped a hand down the back of Harry's jeans, and pinched his butt. Harry jumped a little, both in surprise and because of the emotions associated with the very familiar action.

"That was for last night." Fred whispered.

Harry tossed him a grin, pleased to know which twin had moaned.

Ron frowned at the twins as he came in and then took another seat, his confusion at the twins annexing his friend obvious on his sleepy face. Mrs Weasley muttered about the girls and disappeared, Harry assumed to find them. Hermione and Ginny entered a few moments later, following her and looking half asleep, "Why do we have to be up so early?"

"We've got a bit of a walk." Mr Weasley explained.

She nodded once and sat down, pulling a bowl to her. Hermione followed her example.

Harry looked at Fred and George and then leaned in to whichever was on the left and said, "If I were you, I'd get back upstairs and pour those sweets into my bag before your mum notices them."

They looked at him in surprise, and then at their mother and then nodding, they excused themselves and went back upstairs 'to get ready'.

Harry waited all of two minutes before going after them.

"How did you know?"

"I seen one and figured after yesterday that you were trying to hide them from your mum." Harry said as he sat down across from the twins who were just retying his bag.

"Thanks."

Harry nodded, "If there's anything you want to smuggle to school in my trunk let me know. In the meantime, what's going on?"

They looked at each other, "We want to open a joke shop when we leave school. We started a mail order business over the summer, but mum found the order forms and destroyed them, along with all of our supplies. She was furious, wants us to go into the ministry or something." Fred said.

"It's always about what _she_ wants. Never about what _we_ want." George shrugged, "Anyway, we're trying to get as much of our stuff out of the house as possible. Angelina and Lee are going to be at the world cup and we're hoping to give them a load of it."

"Do you have the money to start off?"

"No, we're hoping to earn enough through the mail order business, but until we leave school our hands are tied."

Harry nodded, and then said, "You mum will probably search your trunks before you leave so put everything into mine. The password is Gemini."

"You have a password protection charm on it? Where did you find that? We're been trying to get one for ages."

"I'll give it to you when we get back to school. Not point yet."

"Why Gemini?" George asked looking at him.

"How's your occulmuncy?"

"Our what?"

"I'd tell you, George, but I need to know that that overgrown bat masquerading as a potions teacher isn't going to filch it from your head the next time you see him. Snape and Dumbledore are both legilmens, meaning that they can read your mind."

Both twins paled, "But why didn't they stop Ginny…"

Harry signed, "Snape, because he's a bastard. Dumbledore, I'm not sure about. Either he really doesn't believe in using it on anyone except me or he was waiting for me to save her."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about my first three years in school. Trolls? The Philosopher's Stone hidden behind traps three first years could get through? Why did neither of them pick up on Pettigrew?"

Both the twins were frowning now, an unusual sight. Most people forgot that the twins had good heads on their shoulders.

"I suppose we had better learn it then. You can teach us?"

"If you want" Harry grinned, "but not now. We need to get going."

HP

They arrived at the Stoatshead Hill at five o clock and Mr Weasley set them to looking for the portkey. Harry didn't look too hard, already knowing that Amos Diggory would find it before them. Suddenly remembering the upcoming conversation, it was all Harry could do not to groan when he heard the yell of "Over here Arthur! Over here son! We've got it!"

"Amos" Mr Weasley called, smiling as he made his way towards the two figures and shook hands with the ruddy faced wizard before introducing him as Amos Diggory of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"Hi" Cedric said uneasily when Mr Weasley introduced him. His eyes kept flickering between Harry and his father. Harry frowned slightly.

Everyone said "Hi" back including the Twins who looked slightly mutinous, but a quick kick from Harry made the decision for them.

"Long walk Arthur?"

"Not to bad. We live just on the other side of the village there, you?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition. Still… not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of galleons – and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy… All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the red heads, this is Hermione, friend of Ron's- and Harry, another friend-"

"Merlin's beard! Harry? Harry _Potter?"_

Harry's eyes narrowed, remembering how the conversation went before and not wanted a repeat of it, "Yes and before you say something else that might embarrass you or your son even more, I'd think long and hard about it before you say _anything_."

Everyone saw the look of relief and gratitude on Cedric's face.

"Now see here, that's not way to speak to me!"

"And how you were about to speak was no way to speak about your son, so please just let it go."

"Thanks Harry." Cedric said softly and with more relief then Harry had been expecting.

Diggory blinked once and looked from his son to the Boy-Who-Lived and back again, "Cedric?"

"He's right Dad. I'm glad I won, but there is no reason to rub his face in it." Cedric snapped.

And suddenly Harry understood.

"Err… well yes, it must be nearly time to go." Mr Weasley said into the silence, "Everyone needs to be touching the portkey…"

They arranged themselves to that everyone had a finger on the portkey, and Harry manoeuvred everyone so that Cedric was between him and Ginny and both the girls were between Diggory and Cedric. They stood there, Harry slowly counting the seconds until Mr Weasley started counting down from three. Then he was being dragged forward by a hook at his navel. Harry ground his teeth together and let himself go.

The ground belted up to met him and he caught his balance almost immediately as the twins, Ron, Hermione and Ginny crashed to the floor.

"Seven past five from Stoutshead Hill." A voice said.

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and please review again! **


	6. Bagman and Crouch

**Note: **If Harry's alternating reactions to people confuse you, sorry. He's trying not to deal with people as if they were their future counterparts. Unfortunately, sometimes certain things/words/memories make him instinctively react to them as he remembers them.

**Extra Disclaimer:** I will only be deviated from the actual book in areas where Harry's attitudes, actions, thoughts or other's have changed in regards to Harry. Therefore there will be a lot of paraphrasing and direct quotes taken from the book. If I were to label every line as either canon or mine, I would never get anywhere so I have chosen not to. Instead, I will repeat, this belongs to JKR. I'm just playing.

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 6: Bagman and Crouch**

Turning, Harry looked at the two wizards standing behind him as the four youngest Weasley's and Hermione climbed to their feet. Cedric flashed him a surprised grin, which Harry returned and then purposely smiled at the glaring Hermione as she brushed her robes down.

"Morning Basil" Mr Weasley said cheerfully to one of the wizards and then handed the old boot to the other man who was dressed in a kilt and a poncho.

"Hello there, Arthur. Not in duty, eh? It's alright for some… we're been here all-night. You'd better get out of the way; we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite…"

Harry's attention trailed off as a hand began to slowly inch around his back, under his shirt. His eyes flicked to Fred who was standing to his left and he could detect just enough of grin to be pretty sure it was George's hand, since the other twin was standing behind them. The questing hand had somehow managed to get inside his T-shirt now, how considering the rucksack, he had no idea, and was resting lightly on skin, soft and warm. He barely suppressed a shudder. This was _George's_ hand on his back. His George, Fred's George. He couldn't quite stop the shiver.

"My, my, Harry. Anyone who didn't know you would…" George started.

"…think you were gagging for it." Fred said, smirking.

Harry smirked and stepped away slowly, letting George pull his hand out, "Curious to see what I'm like when I really am _gagging_ for it?" Then he was following Mr Weasley towards the campsite.

The twins shared a look and hurried after him.

This wasn't the same Harry they knew from last year. Something had changed. This one seemed both older and younger then two months could account for. Some walls were gone, but others had been reinforced and the darkness that had always been there, deep below the surface seemed to hover just under his skin. He was darker, more powerful, but also playful and sexy, not shying away from contact as he could have done last year. In fact, he seemed intent on making them work for it and enjoying every second. Harry Potter had always been a mystery, but now… now he was an irresistible one.

They caught up with the rest when Mr Weasley stopped to talk to the muggle who owned the campsite and Harry neatly sidestepped so they were on front of him. Mr Weasley looked around panicked with a handful of money and his eyes alighted on Hermione. He quickly called her over and when he was sure they and Ron were engrossed in the money, Harry turned his full concentration to trying to repeat George's trick of getting inside his clothing with the bag in the way. He had just managed to wriggle his other hand into the waistband of Fred's jeans and getting ready for a good grope when two ministry wizards ran up and memory charmed the muggle before he could blink. He pulled his hands away quickly and tried to look to look innocent. Fred gave him a wink and leaned back whispering, "Less clothes would make this a lot easier."

Harry grinned, "Is that an offer?"

The twins laughed, then realising he really was serious, they looked hard at him, "You've changed, Harry."

"I had an interesting summer." A momentary pain flashed through his eyes, "I was never the person people wanted me to be, but I guess… I just can't be bothered hiding it anymore."

"I thought Mr Bagman was the Head of Magical Games and Sports", Ginny said as they began walking again and Fred closed his mouth, deciding that their conversation would have to wait.

"He should know better then to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?" she continued.

Mr Weasley smiled, "He should, but Ludo's always been a bit… lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the Sport's Department, though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

Conversation trailed off as they made their way through the campsite. There were too many things to watch for them to be interested in doing more then make quick comments as they pointed things out to each other. One tent that deserved a second look had a fountain in the garden! And there were peacocks chained outside another. Harry, who was now walking beside Ron looked around and smiled. A few changes here, a few there and he might make it out of Hogwarts with some friends, his lovers and something that might be a life worth living.

HPFWGW

Mr Weasley dropped his pack beside their spot and declared that they were going to set up the tent the Muggle way and then asked Harry where to begin. For a second Harry hesitated and then he leaned over and fitted the two poles Mr Weasley was holding out together. Mr and Mrs Weasley had never believed the Dursley's were quite as bad as he always claimed, so he was unlikely to wonder how Harry knew what to do. Hermione on the other hand… throwing a confused glance at her and apparently not seeing the suspicious look she was giving him, he motioned desperately at the next pole. The doubt faded from her face. Harry's luck, nothing more, had got the first two poles sorted out. She moved over to them and pointed to another pole, "That one is next."

After what seemed like twice long as the first time Harry had lived this day, they got the two shabby tents up and went inside for a look around before Mr Weasley sent him, Ron and Hermione to get water.

Passing through the campsite, was for Harry, a trip down memory lane as half remembered images returned to life before him, 'Kevin' with the giant slug, the two little girls on broomsticks and the multicoloured fires that were furtively being cast everywhere a ministry wizard wasn't around to stop it. Eventually they turned a corner and Ron said, "Er- is it my eyes or has everything gone green?" and Harry grinned as he looked around the shamrock bedecked tents.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" a voice yelled and he turned to see a grinning Seamus sitting beside a sandy-haired woman.

"Like the decorations?" Seamus grinned, "The ministry isn't too happy!"

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?" Mrs Finnegan asked, "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?"

Harry smiled and nodded along with Ron and Hermione. After all, what else could they do?

After that they just had to make a detour over to the Bulgarian camp and Ron and Hermione started bickering over Krum. It was almost comforting to hear them arguing over something that didn't have anything to do with the next life threatening situation, or why Ron and he weren't talking anymore. Suddenly remembering the Yule Ball, Harry snickered and had to slow down a bit before he burst out laughing in front of them. That also brought up another thought though. Who should he ask this time? The twins, Angelina and Katie went as friends. Lee Jordon and Alicia would already be an item by then. He didn't know that many students socially and Dumbledore and several of the other staff had always tried to keep him as isolated as possible, 'for his own good'. Neville and Luna had been an accident, primarily the result of the DA and they had joined him after Dumbledore had been forced from the school. Likewise his closer friendship with Fred and George in his fifth year was the main reason that Dumbledore had not tried as hard as he could have to return them to school. Quite simply, the fewer close friends Harry had, the easier to keep undue influences away from him it would be. Merlin forbid he ever made friendly contact with a Slytherin! Of course, that didn't help his current dilemma and then he had an idea. And his grin got just a little bit feral.

There was a small queue for the tap and a ministry wizard standing outside the queue holding a pair of pinstriped trousers. Harry blinked as he argued with 'Archie' about whether a floral nightdress was suitable muggle attire.

Hermione started giggling again and had to leave, but Harry felt an irrational flare of rage. If Archie wanted to dress like a women, he should damn well be allowed to! The trousers erupted into flames and the ministry wizard dropped them with a yelp. He stood there staring at them for a moment and then deciding that Archie could wear the nightdress if he wanted to, he backed away. Ron gave Harry a look, but the other boy just shrugged it off.

Hermione returned when they reached the tap and frowned at Harry, "What did you think you were doing?"

"I wasn't doing anything. Why do you both think I had something to do with it?"

"You were glaring at that ministry wizard."

"So? If he wants to wear a dress, he should be allowed to. Or are transvestites not allowed in the wizarding world?" he snapped at her.

"No…no" she looked at little shocked; "It's just not something I thought would bother you."

"What's a transvestite?" Ron asked.

They walked back slower because of the water and Harry managed to avoid answering Ron's question by talking about Quidditch. He didn't want to deal with Ron's homophobia today and then they were distracted by Oliver Wood who insisted on introducing Harry to his parents as the 'best seeker I've ever played with'. They also seen other Hogwarts' students and this time when Cho Chang waved, Harry smiled back as pain stabbed through his heart. Cho's death would haunt him forever. It was their supposed relationship in fifth year that had earned her a painful death.

"You've been ages" George said when they got back.

"Met a few people." Ron explained and Harry chimed in to tell them were Oliver Wood was.

Hermione had set her pan down and was already making a bee line for Mr Weasley and the box of matches.

They eventually got the fire going. Fred and George went looking for Oliver and Arthur kept up a running commentary for Hermione about all the people running around. Ginny and Ron seemed a bit bored by it through and Harry was remembering what he knew about them from the war rather then listening. It wasn't until Mr Weasley got to Bode and Croaker that something interesting happened.

"Why are they coming over here?" Mr Weasley asked after explaining that they were unspeakables.

"Arthur." Croaker said nodding, "Just need to talk to Mr Potter for a moment."

"Harry? Really? Is anything wrong?" Mr Weasley didn't look happy, but Harry was already moving towards them. He reached out and laid an arm around his shoulders when he reached them, "I really think that anything you want to say should be said with me here. Dumbledore…"

Harry shrugged his arm off suddenly angry at the mention of the headmaster and the reminder of Mr Weasley's fanatic loyalty to the old man, "It's alright, Mr Weasley. I'll be back in a moment."

"Harry…"

"It's _alright_ Mr Weasley" Harry ground out as he walked away.

They moved away and Bode cast a charm what would keep people from eavesdropping. Croaker eyed him for a moment, "Spoke to Grayson today and she asked me to pass on a message, Gerrant pieced together that puzzle you set him and I have the information you want. Does that mean something to you Mr Potter?"

"Yes."

"Not many people can impress Hypatia Grayson. I'm curious about how you managed it."

"Being the Boy Who Lived isn't enough?" he asked as sarcastically as possible.

Bode laughed and Croaker snorted, "Not by a long shot. She said to treat you like an adult and not to worry about under-aged magic from you."

"I'm good with intent."

That got a raised eyebrow, "Grayson said we could trust you, Mr Potter, so we are. I hope you'll do the same for us. We suspect there will be death eater activity tonight."

"You're right. There will be. Lucius Malfoy will definitely be involved and they'll target the Roberts family."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes."

"You want to tell us how you know?"

"Using a method _Tia_ trusts."

That got another raised eyebrow and Harry grinned before asking, "Can you ask her to let me know if there is anyway I can get around the age limit for apparition please?"

Bode and Croaker shared a look and then Bode nodded once and cancelled his spells. Without another word they continued down the path.

"What did they want?" Mr Weasley asked the moment Harry got back.

"Just to talk to me about something."

"Harry… the Unspeakables… they're strange people Harry. If you have questions, I really think you should go to Headmaster Dumbledore…"

Rage burned through him so suddenly it was shocking, "The day I go to Dumbledore is the day I agree to become a pawn in his bloody chess game with the universe!" Then spinning on his heel he strode away, ignoring the yells behind him.

The twins were coming towards him and for a moment, Harry was tempted to go to them. Fury was still raging in his veins though and he had no desire for the twins to catch the brunt of it. Instead, he ducked around behind another tent and wandered away. Unfortunately he wasn't paying that much attention to where he was going and he crashed into someone.

Disentangled himself from his victim, he fixed his glasses back onto his nose and stood up, apologising, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." The he held out his hand which the other man took it with a laugh. He was dressed in black and yellow stripped Quidditch robes and had the look of a powerful man gone to seed.

"No problem, young man! Looking forward to the match?"

"Yeah I am." Harry said as recognition sank in and he said, "Harry Potter."

"Lud… what did you say?" The bright blue eyes done the usual flick up to his scar and then the man laughed again, "Ludo Bagman at your service!"

"Mr Weasley said you got us our tickets. Thanks for that."

"No problem, no problem. Speaking of whom, where's your tent?"

Harry pointed him in the direction of the Weasley's tent and then made a mention of watching his wand because of the twin's fake ones.

"Well I'll see you in the top box in a bit anyway, Harry." Bagman grinned and Harry grinned back and then had an idea, "Mr Bagman… is something happening at Hogwarts this year? Only Percy's been dropping hints…"

Bagman's eyes gleamed as he leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. Harry's eyes widened as he drew back, shocked at how easily he had told him and Bagman nodded one and grinned before heading in the direction of the Weasley's camp humming a tune.

Shaking his head, Harry set off again. Most of his rage had drained away now, and Bagman had put him in a more introspective mood so he changed direction, heading towards where the map had said there was a small open area for congregating and stalls where he figured he could probably get some food since he had missed lunch and wondering again if there was any way he could 'miraculously' repair his eyesight. The glasses had poked him in the eye when he had bumped to Bagman.

He was just crossing the road holding a roll when he heard a voice he thought he recognised, "… Bagman, yes, yes, have you seen him. I really must find him…"

A moment later Mr Crouch, Bode and Croaker came around the corner of another tent.

They noticed each other at the same moment.

"Mr Potter." Bode said with a nod.

"Mr Croaker, Mr Bode, Mr….?" he trailed off.

"Crouch" the last man said, "Barty Crouch."

"Mr Crouch" Harry nodded, "I couldn't help over-hearing. Mr Bagman was on his way to the Weasley's campsite a few moments ago."

Crouch nodded, "Where is that, do you know?"

Harry gave him directions and he hurried off. The two Unspeakables gave him a nod and headed on their way again.

Harry watched until they had were out of sight and then turned and began to make his way slowly and in a round-about route back towards the tent, feeling strangely drained after his emotional riot and still put off about Mr Weasley's treatment of him. He stopped to buy six pairs of onmioculars on the way and an Irish rosette.

"Harry!" Mr Weasley cried when he appeared, "I was getting so worried! Where were you?"

Hermione was standing behind him with the pinched expression on her face that usually meant she disagreed with whatever he had just done and had forgotten it wasn't her life again. Ginny was standing beside her and she didn't look happy either.

"I just went for a walk. Did Bagman and Crouch find their way here alright?"

"Well yes, but Harry…"

But Harry was already handing out the omnioculars to Ron and Hermione, the twins and Ginny and nodding to greeting Percy, Charlie and Bill. Then the bugle sounded and Mr Weasley sighed, "We have to go. This conversation isn't finished, Harry."

Harry shrugged; this was the man who had threatened to _crucio_ him if he set foot on his property again. It may not have happened yet, but even in this time, Harry couldn't quite bring himself to care about the man's opinions. As for as he was concerned this conversation had never begun.

They made their way towards the glittering, golden stadium and Harry, gazing up at it, sighed in relief at the feeling of freedom. Here and now, his Quidditch ban had not been made yet. He could enjoy this as something he would play again in the future. It was a nice thought and maybe he could stop the explosion that had got him banned this time…

They reached the entrance and began to climb the stairs half listening to Mr Weasley explain about the stadiums construction to Hermione. They eventually reach the top and Harry managed to get a seat with Fred and George on one side of him and Ron and Hermione on the other. Settling down, he closed his eyes and let all the tension drain out of him while Ron went on about how he could make someone repeatedly pick his nose with the omnioculars. He had also managed to make sure that he was no where near Winky. Maybe if Hermione didn't overhear the conversation, he could avoid SPEW this time round.

"A display from the team mascots will precede the match." Hermione said as she read the programme.

"Oh, that's always worth watching" agreed Mr Weasley, "National Teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

The box around them gradually filled and Harry smiled turned around when Fudge introduced him to the Bulgarian minister of magic. Harry smiled and nodded and fought down the temptation to either translate what the minister was saying for the ever-curious Hermione or to join in the conversation. Harry had picked up a smattering of the language during his tenure as a member of the British National Team in the 2002 World Cup in Bulgaria after the war ended.

Movement behind Fudge attracted their attention just as Fudge said, "…and here's Lucius!"

Harry watched silently as Fudge introduced Malfoy to the Bulgarian minister and then Malfoy introduced his wife and son.

In his mind he relayed the walk into Malfoy Manor. He could almost smell the stench of rotting meat again; almost feel the putrid air brush against his…

"Harry! Harry!"

He blinked once and looked at Hermione, "Yes?"

"Are you alright? You kind of zoned out there for a minute."

"I'm fine Hermione… just a bad memory…"

He shook his head once and resolutely turned back to the pitch, ignoring the junior death eater behind him as Ludo came in just in time to announce the mascots' demonstration.

Harry smiled, he liked Veela. And of course, this time he wouldn't be totally overwhelmed so he could sit back and enjoy it… and find out what the ferret's reaction was while he was at it.

**Author's Notes: There are several hints in this chapter about events, both those from Harry's future and those from the new one. 5 Points to the person (house of your choice obviously) who gets each one first. **

**Question: Should Tia (Hypatia Grayson) go to Hogwarts?**

**You know the drill, please review! And thanks to everyone who did.**


	7. Battles of Different Types

**Note on Hermione:** Hermione sees herself as being valued for her intelligence. Harry's refusal to discuss things with her and to capitulate to her demands for explanations and information is making her value herself less. She also sees her 'maturity' as giving her the right to make decisions for all of them. She sees Ron and Harry as children too young to be trusted alone. Harry keeps disproving or arguing against this which again, is making Hermione question her position.

**Note on War Mages:** In this verse Aurors are the Police. Hit Wizards are tactical/intelligence gathering units (Similar to SWAT or Special Branch). Unspeakables are MI5 and MI6. War Mages are somewhere between Interpol and the SAS. They are very dangerous and very secretive. The only way in is by invitation given from the War Leader. They report only to their War Leader and the head of the Department of Secrets or the equivalent in other countries. They are usually dark. While the War Mage List, a complete list of all current members is public, not many people know anything other then rumours about them and few know of the existence of the list, let alone how to access it. Some War Mages have a secondary (Day) job due to the rareness with which they are required to act.

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 7: Battles of Different Types**

The Veela walked out onto the pitch and Harry took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching him, and then whipped off his glasses. Lucius still had the haughty expression on his face, but his eyes had the blank, blissful look to them that Harry had learned to associate with male Veela descendants when faces with the full-blooded ones. A tight, cruel smile touched his lips for a moment as he remembered how Fluer's grandmother had forced the younger blonde to obey her.

Settling back comfortably into his chair, he let his mind drift a little, just enough for the Veela's powers to float along the top most layer of his mind as they began to dance.

The compulsion hit him full in the face as the ethereal music began to speed up and the Veela danced faster, spinning in seemingly random patterns that matched the wild, half formed thoughts that were twirling just as quickly through his head. Reaching out one hand, he took Ron's Irish hat off of him and put it on the floor and then dragged his eyes away from the beautiful dancing creatures on the pitch.

Lucius and Draco were both half out of their chairs, leaning forward and watching with rapt attention. Narcissa sat between them, her eyes averted from the field below as she studied the stand with detached interest. Almost as if she was truly concentrating on something else. Harry's eyes narrowed and he shut down even the little bit of influence he had allowed the dancers.

He turned slightly so he could once again see Draco and Lucius' eyes and then back at Narcissa and then he reached out with his magic, sending the raw power to touch the Malfoy men. Power flared back, along the trail, compulsion layered with joy and all hidden in a word. It whispered along the back of his mind, sliding into cracks and crannies as he struggled to chase it…_ Imperio_...

His eyes widened and flickered again to Narcissa Malfoy, this time with respect in them. He turned back to the dancing women. If Narcissa Malfoy was capable of controlling two part Veela males in the company of their female kin when said females were doing their best to ensnare every person in the place, she was a hell of a lot more powerful then she looked. In fact, she was probably the most powerful of the Black sisters.

Ron stood up suddenly, leaning forward and Harry let the last few minutes of the music wash over him before it stopped. So did the dancers.

There was a moment of silence before angry yells began to fill the stadium. No one wanted the Veela to stop. Harry side his glasses back up onto his nose and blinked slowly, as if coming out of a daze, "Wow…"

Hermione looked at him and frowned a little before scowling at Ron who was still struggling to free his mind from the spell.

"Very…" George said.

"Impressive." Fred finished eyes wide.

Harry grinned to himself as he leaned over to pick up Ron's hat and handed it to his still somewhat groggy mate.

Mr Weasley was smiling at his children, but his eyes hardened a little when they passed over Harry, just enough for the boy to catch it. Obviously he hadn't been forgiven for the confrontation earlier.

"What did the Irish bring?" he asked Hermione.

She looked down at her programme and had opened her mouth to reply when a shooting star flew overhead.

"…Leprechauns."

Glancing over his shoulder at the somewhat bleary looking Malfoy men, Harry couldn't help but grin at them. Narcissa had obviously released them from the spell and they were trying very hard to appear as if nothing had happened. Still smiling, he turned his attention back to the leprechaun display and the quidditch match that followed.

Harry laughed as the gold fell around them and smiled at Ron's exuberant "Excellent!"

The leprechauns flew around the stadium, making pictures in the air to the delight of the crowd and it wasn't long before the effect of the Veela on the men was forgotten.

Ludo Bagman looked around the top box once and then turned back to the crowd, announcing the teams. Ron went wild when Krum as introduced to Harry's carefully concealed amusement and Hermione's more obvious annoyance and then the game began.

For Harry it was a bittersweet pleasure; while the game was too random and too long ago for him to be able to predict the moves or the outcome, his own memories, both of playing and of watching, clouded it. Without realising it, his mind wandered off to another match… the opening match at the brand new Victor Krum Memorial Stadium outside Sofia in Bulgaria… he remembered the cheers as the British Team came out and the announcer's voice… he could remembered it as if it was yesterday, dedicating the match to the memory of the Quidditch players, Krum included, who had died in the war…

"Harry? HARRY!" he blinked blearily at Hermione who was looked at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? You zoned out there a little bit."

He shook his head, "I'm fine, Hermione. Just remembered something." To prove his point, he raised the omniculars to his eyes and turned his attention back to the game just as the leprechauns began making rude gestures at the Veela.

It ended the same way it had the first time, with Bagman proclaiming the Bulgaria got the snitch, but Ireland won and Harry watched, slightly bemused as the Irish chasers helped the still somewhat befuddled Lynch around the pitch. Idly, Harry realised that he had been smashed into the ground twice more in this game then in the previous one.

"Vell, ve fought bravely" the Bulgarian minister said causing Fudge to splutter. Harry grinned, but Bagman either didn't notice or ignored the commotion behind him to continue;

"And as the Irish Team perform a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup is brought to the top box" Bagman announced. The enormous cup was brought in and Harry watched it in slight awe and not a little envy, his mind once again on the future game. Shaking his head to clear the image, he forcibly focused his attention on Fudge and Bagman, grinning a little at Fudge's mutterings over the language. Watching the arrogant little sod being made a fool of was even more enjoyable then last time.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers- Bulgaria!"

The Bulgarian Team entered the top box, cheerless and defeated to the sound of the crowd clapping appreciatively. They filed between the two rows of seats as their name was called to shake hands with both ministers. Harry noted again how bad Krum looked, but he smiled easily at the other man, but when his name was shouted, he got the loudest roar yet. For a second their eyes met and Harry felt the flash of a challenge. He had never had the chance to fly against Krum after the war. This time, he vowed, he would entice the other boy into a game at Hogwarts. For a moment, Harry thought he could see something in Krum's eyes, an answering sense of competition maybe… but he never got the chance to ask as Ludo Bagman announced the winners and the crowd went wild.

Troy and Quigley lifted the cup between them to even loader roars and Harry realised his hands were numb for clapping. He couldn't remember if they had been the first time round.

Eventually, the teams left the Top Box and Krum met his eyes again. Slowly Harry nodded to the other seeker. _I see you. And I see you too. You are competition. So are you. One day we will fight. Yes, we will. _It was all said in a moment's meeting of eyes, but it was enough. A small smile tugged his lips. Yes, it was enough.

Harry was just turning back when the twins scrambled over the seats in from of them and held their hands out to Bagman.

"…ah… yes… how much do I owe you?"

HPGWFW

Harry fell behind a little as they left the Top Box. Fred, George and Mr Weasley were the furthest ahead of them and appeared to be deep in discussion. After them were Hermione and Ginny, although how they got in front of Percy and Bill he wasn't sure. Charlie was the only one behind him since he was chatting to Ludo Bagman. He had told Bode and Croaker what was coming. The two men were not only an Unspeakables, but also War Mages. It made more sense for them to have contacted that group then the MLE… maybe. He scanned the press of people as they reached the bottom of the stairs looking for anyone he recognised. There didn't seem to be any more security then there had been before and his eyes narrowed for a moment. If they had gone to the War Mages, then off course, there wouldn't be. They didn't operate in the 'light' so to speak. But they should have at least _told_ the MLE. It was policy.

A bright flash and a firework-like screech coming from above him drowning out the sounds of celebration and raucous singing for a moment made him look up just in time to see a leprechaun formation flying overhead.

He smiled a little.

When they finally reached the tent, nobody felt like sleeping and Mr Weasley relented, letting them stay up for a cup of hot chocolate and they were soon chatting happily about the match. No one noticed how tense Harry was, although both Hermione and Mr Weasley cast a few glances his way. Eventually Ginny fell asleep at the table and Mr Weasley sent them all to bed.

Harry changed into his too large pyjamas quickly, glad he had through to recast the glamour when he was in the bathroom and climbed into bed. He lay awake, listening to the sounds of celebrating from outside waiting for the attack. He didn't know if he slept at all, but it seemed like only minutes before Mr Weasley was shouting, "Get up! Ron – Harry – come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harry rolled of his bunk and grabbed the clothes he had purposely let out. Ron mumbled something and followed suit.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Ron asked.

"No time, Ron – Just grab a jacket and get outside – quickly."

Harry done as ordered, for all intents and purpose, the good little boy, but inside his stomach churned. He didn't have to fight. He may not have had any respect for Dumbledore, but he did trust the War Mages and they knew what was happening. They _would_ act. At the same time… he wanted to fight. It had been a long time since he had been able to unleash that side of him and he found himself wanting to join in more then anything.

Standing with Ron, Fred and George outside the tent, he watched dispassionately as the people race towards the woods. On the other side of the field, he could just make out the marchers. Sounds like load cracks and gun blasts shattered the air every few moments outdoing even the screams. For a moment the scene was illuminated by a green flash. "That's sick." Ron murmured as they watched the youngest child of the captured family spinning around at a sickening speed. "That is really sick." Hermione and Ginny joined them looking just as distressed.

Mrs Roberts was abruptly turned upside down and she struggled to keep her nightdress covering her as the marchers laughed.

"We're going to help the ministry" Mr Weasley announced as he, Percy, Bill and Charlie joined them. Whatever he said next was lost to Harry as he stomach settled, decision made at the sudden flickering images of the War Mage and Unspeakable insignias about half way between them and the marchers. It was a call to arms. Every War Mage and every Unspeakable capable was _required_ to attend now. Fred and George pulled their siblings with them as they began to run towards the woods. Hermione followed with Harry, wringing her hands. They joined up with another group of people and Harry made his escape, an effortless smile on his lips and a deep sense of anticipation at the coming battle in his chest, and he easily tripped over another running body, letting his friends move ahead unknowingly.

Twisting a little when he hit the ground, Harry rolled away from the running Weasleys and came back to his feet. Spinning in a circle, he pulled his glasses off of his face wishing again that there was some way for him to 'miracle' his sight better and bolted in the direction of the War Mage insignia. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few others making their way towards the invisible emblem in the sky and grinned, wondering if they had been called in as backup by Bode and Croaker or if they had been spectators.

Bursting into the clearing about two rows of tents away from the death eaters, Harry stumbled in surprise. Standing in the middle of the clearing, wearing a war mage uniform and barking orders was Hypatia Grayson. The black battle robe swirled around her ankles, open to the waist and left her arms bare and her silver hair was plaited tightly down her back. It was a uniform that Harry had only seen her wear a handful of times. Once at Dumbledore's funeral, although he hadn't recognised her then, again at the Battle for Hogsmeade and when she had accompanied him to the last battle being the most memorable. That she was wearing it now…

Noticing him sliding to a stop, she motioned him over and then barked another order to someone else, "Harry, thanks for the warning."

"I should have told you at the ministry."

Hypatia snorted, "No, you shouldn't. You weren't sorted in your own mind then, better to play everything close to the chest until you're sure of yourself." She handed him a bag, "Change quickly."

Harry pulled out the black cloak and looked at her in shook, "What…"

"You need some kind of authority. Even Dumbledore can't argue with this. I backdated it to the two weeks you spent in Diagon Alley last summer. Now change!"

Harry dived into the nearest tent and quickly pulled his clothing off, shrinking them on instinct. He pulled on the black dragaonhide trousers and boots and then the grey acromantula silk shirt. Like Tia's it was sleeveless in deference to the scorching weather. The battle robe with the War Mage insignia on the back went on last and then he was out the door and back at Hypatia's side even as he finished strapping on the wand holster.

"I'll have to see if I can get you an exception on that." She nodded to the wand.

Harry grinned, "I'd rather have my apparition licence."

"Bode mentioned something about that."

Then grinning, they dashed off towards the riot.

The death eaters were gathered in the centre, surrounded by a panicking mob. Taking in the situation in an instant, Harry ran to one side and then plunged into the mass of people, Tia only steps behind him. Sliding, gliding and sometime outright pushing their way, they made it into the inner circle. There were three other black War Mage robes already in the mix and an increasing number of red auror robes could be seen as they continued to apperate in.

"I've got the family." Harry hissed, already sending out streamers of colourless magic from his hands. Tia glanced once at him and then jumped into the heaving mass on front of them. Pausing only long enough to ensure his hold on the Robert's family was secure, Harry jumped in after her.

The first elbow to the ribs caught him by surprise.

The second was caught in a steely grip and Harry flung the Death Eater face first into the ground, stumbling himself from the strain Above his head, Mrs Robert's shrieked as half the power holding her suddenly disappeared. Grunting at the trouble the forced split in his concentration was causing him, Harry realised his mistake. He hadn't done this in years. Yes, he was still a War Mage, technically on call at all times, but the last time he had actually been in a fight was that paramilitary group… The Free Republic of Magical Yorkshire or whatever they were called. He was out of practise and currently in his fourteen year old body, "Shit!"

Throwing up a shield to catch a yellowish orange curse, Harry began to back out of the fight area, tossing random curses at anyone who came too close. A spontaneous roar from across the heaving mass and he was suddenly supporting all the family except one of the children. The riot surged towards him abruptly and he stumbled, barely keeping his footing as his magic trapped the last child in the air. There was another roar, this one harsher, more desperate and the Death Eater Harry had been in the middle of punching suddenly disappeared. He caught his balance and looked around. Men in black robes were strewn across the camping site and mixed in where a few red ones. All the Death Eaters who had still been standing had apperated out.

Slowly, Harry lowered the family onto the ground and they clutched each other, sobbing in relief and terror. Making her way over, Tia stopped to look at them for a moment before finishing the journey to his side.

"Mistake?"

"Mistake."

"How long?"

Harry grunted, "Until I had to take the woman's weight."

Tia laughed and after a moment, Harry joined in. Even with his split concentration issue it had been a good fight. And more importantly, they had won with no casualties. Tia's amusement told him that.

A shriek from behind caused them both to spin around. A ghostly green skull stood against the sky, a snake sliding from its mouth.

"I wonder whose wand he used this time." Harry said softly.

"Who?"

"Barty Crouch Junior."

Tia blinked, and then checked her watch, "We're too far away to do anything. I would guess you have ten minutes to explain."

Harry grinned and explained what he knew about the night's events.

"Merlin…" shaking her head, she said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing for now. He'll be a good teacher and this is the easiest way for Voldemort to get his body back."

"Right."

"We need him to get his body back, Tia, otherwise I can't kill him. Has Gerrant had any luck?"

"He has the ring and he managed to talk Andromeda Tonks into going into the Black House for the locket."

"Sirius Black is going after the cup."

"Sirius Black?"

"He's innocent, Tia. He was never given a trail. Peter Pettigrew is a death eater and he _is_ still alive. I saw him. In fact, I was there to watch him get kissed the first time round."

"Why wasn't this brought up when he escaped?"

"Bad press for Fudge?" Harry's tone was bitter.

The woman by his side didn't answer, but she did look annoyed about something. Harry was about to ask when he noticed people beginning to leave the safety of the woods, "I better change." He grinned, "So had you." He nodded to her uniform.

Tia looked at him blankly for a second, and then yelled, "INCOMING CIVILIANS!"

There was a scramble for people ducking out of sight so they could transfigure their uniform back into whatever they had been wearing before hand. Harry waved his hand towards Tia and them himself, letting the magic still bubbling inside him fizz down his arm. Tia glanced at the plain blue robe she was no wearing and raised an eyebrow. Harry simply grinned.

"HARRY!"

Looking over, he seen Ron, Ginny and Hermione running towards him, closely followed by Arthur and Percy who had a bloody nose. Groaning, he ran a hand over his face.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Can you shove this under NTK?"

Tia considered it for a moment and then nodded, "I think I can."

"Where were you?"

"We looked everywhere!"

"…so worried…"

"… could have been killed…"

"…left us…"

"..stupid…"

"…Dark Mark…"

Check, check check. Ron was annoyed at being left out. Hermione was angry that he had done something she didn't like. Ginny was furious that he hadn't been protecting her.

"Mr Weasley?" Tia asked.

"Ms Grayson. I wasn't aware you were coming." Mr Weasley stood stiffly.

Percy stood with his mouth open, too shocked to see the Hypatia Grayson to do anything. Ginny, Ron and Hermione stopped in surprise looking back and forth between Mr Weasley and this woman he was treating so coldly.

"What Mr Potter was doing, he was doing at my express order. The information is classified. I assume your children have learned that concept by now?"

Harry winced, absently thinking that that comment was below the belt even if it was justified, but Mr Weasley drew himself up, "Dumbledore won't like it."

Tia smiled, "Then it's to my benefit that _Dumbledore_ isn't the Director of the Department of Mysteries, isn't it?"

He deflated just as quickly, "Yes."

"Mr Potter. I'll see what I can do about that request and look into the information you've given me."

Harry nodded, and then stiffened as Mr Weasley dropped a heavy hand onto his shoulder, "Harry…" he didn't sound happy.

Suddenly feeling rebellious, he grinned at Grayson, "Later, Tia."

Raising an eyebrow at him, she smiled as well and quipped, "Later, Harry."

When they got back to the tent they found Fred, George, Bill and Charlie waiting for them, the two oldest boys looking slightly worse for wear. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt and Bill was holding a bed sheet to his bleeding arm, "Did you get them, Dad?" he asked sharply as soon as they had entered, "the person who conjured the Dark Mark?"

"No, "said Mr Weasley, "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Ginny's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" Bill and Charlie yelped.

"Ginny's wand?" Fred asked

_"Mr Crouch's elf?"_ Percy looked thunderstruck and Harry looked at him in surprise. Since he had arrived with Mr Weasley, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, he had assumed he had been with his father the whole time.

With some assistance from Ron, Ginny and Hermione, Mr Weasley explained what had happened in the woods after Harry had been separated from them and the Boy Who Lived was vaguely surprised to discover it had happened pretty much the exact same way as before with Ginny taking his place. Fred and George had still been split from them, but this time it was just the two of them and the others had ran into Percy as they were leaving the woods.

Percy interrupted at that point, proclaiming that Mr Crouch was well within his rights to fire his elf after that and Hermione was quick to jump to Winky's defence. Harry groaned quickly realising that he wasn't going to escape spew this time round either.

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron asked loudly, "It wasn't hurting anyone… why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron" Hermione stated impatiently, "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._"

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years." Said Mr Weasley quietly, "Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it. I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky."

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed. The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home…"

Harry's attention wandered. He knew exactly what the Dark Mark meant, better even then Mr Weasley and he didn't really want to listen to old horrors being discussed. He was vaguely aware of Mr Weasley explaining to Ron, Hermione and Ginny about the Death Eaters. Ginny asked that the point of torturing the muggles was which led into a history lesson that Harry carefully avoided listening too.

"Did you see any of the War Mages?" Charlie asked, turning the conversation away and Harry's attention was sharply brought back.

"Not much of them." Bill said, "One of them caught the Roberts' though. They were bloody impressive."

"Hypatia Grayson was there." Percy said, "We seen her afterwards. She's the War Leader."

"No one knows for certain, Percy." Mr Weasley said, "Only the War Mages and the Head of the Department of Mysteries know who the War Leader is."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"What were you doing, Harry?" Hermione demanded, remembering where they had found him. Tension immediately filled the tent. Bill and Charlie looked surprised for a moment but kept silent.

"What Tia asked me to. That's all I can say."

"You seem to know Grayson very well. She doesn't let many people call her 'Tia'." Mr Weasley said, his body screaming his discomfort.

"I know her well enough."

"Harry… Hypatia Grayson isn't someone you should be associating with. Dumbledore won't like it."

"And I should care about that, why?"

"Harry, you need to listen…"

"No, Mr Weasley, _you_ need to listen. I _do not_ trust Albus Dumbledore. I have _no _faith in Albus Dumbledore. I don'_t believe_ Albus Dumbledore has anything even vaguely resembling my best intensions at heart and I _firmly believe_ that Albus Dumbledore intends to sacrifice me for the 'greater good' and I don't intend to let him!" Harry said calmly, "I am not Dumbledore's man and I never will be."

"Harry, Dumbledore…" Hermione began.

"Is an old man who has been in power so long he has forgotten the difference between people and chess pieces!"

"That's not true!" Ginny snapped.

Harry looked straight at her, "Dumbledore is a practicing Legelimans. He can read the mind of anyone who can't stop him. He knew you were being possessed by Tom Riddle in your first year. Why didn't he do anything to stop it?"

Ginny paled. Even the twins were shocked at his tone of voice.

"But… but… Harry, Dumbledore would never use his power that way." Mr Weasley said.

"No? Then why does he use it on me every time he sees me?"

"Maybe he's worried about you." Hermione said in a small voice.

"No, Hermione, he isn't worried about me. He's worried about his weapon. The point is; I'm not _his_ weapon. If I must be someone's, I'll pick a better commander then a reactionary too scared to commit himself to a course of action."

"Like Grayson?" Mr Weasley said his voice cold.

Harry looked him straight in the eye, "Like Grayson."

"She's Dark."

"So am I."

Looking around, Harry sighed. Knowing that this was going to happen didn't make the looks of shock and hurt on his friend's faces any easier to deal with. Standing up, he left the tent. It was so easy to forget that he had lived this before; to let the moment take him, but then something would happen to remind him that these people had already betrayed him once and that they would do it again unless _he_ changed something.

Ron had been slowly turning into arrogant twat by the time he was killed and that had been the main reason Harry had made no attempt to talk to him. Ron may have been angry and disgusted at Harry's taste in bed warmers, but Harry had been just as disgusted by Ron's attitude. Molly Weasley's decision to force him to return to Hogwarts had had the unintended side effect of making him forget the reality of the war. He had started to see things in the 'Light's' black and white within a month of returning.

Ginny had been totally unable to handle the fact that Harry wasn't in love with her to the point where Madam Pomfrey had had to medicate her. Everyone blamed the Diary Incident in her first year, but Harry himself hadn't been so sure. He remembered the Ginny from the summer before his second year. Combined with her mother's over-emotional temperament, her father's obsessive personality and the fairy-tale world Dumbledore had kept his followers in; it was entirely possible she ended up like that on her own.

Hermione was a different story. Harry had lived the last four years of their friendship as if it were a bittersweet illusion, waiting for Hermione to leave him. He had stored every memory of her and treated every little thing she did as precious because he had known the outcome of her discovery would be a fight that ended their friendship. Looking back from his current perspective, he had to admit that he hadn't _liked_ Hermione anymore. Her job at Hogwarts had brought the worst aspects of her personality to the front and her involvement with the Order of the Phoenix had given her a sense of self-righteousness and the 'Greater Good' only beaten by Dumbledore himself.

The tent flap behind him opened he could just make out Mr Weasley explaining more about the War Mages as Fred came out, stopping beside him.

"That was uncalled for." The red head said, "Or it seemed that way to us."

Harry sighed, "Have you been doing those exercises?"

"Yeah." He moved around to stand on front of the shorter boy, "What we want to know is if it's going to be worth it."

"It will be for me."

"And for us?"

Looking Fred in the eyes, Harry replied, "That depends on what you make of it."

Fred nodded once, "Grayson is Dark."

"So am I. Dark doesn't mean evil." He paused for a second, "I wasn't planning on keeping this a secret and even if I did, Dumbledore will find out as soon as he knows I know Tia. I'm a War Mage already, Fred."

Fred whistled softly, "I wouldn't tell Mum."

"Dumbledore will no doubt tell her as soon as he finds out. He'll see her disapproval as a way to make me resign."

"Who else knows?"

"Anyone who has checked the listing since last summer."

Fred nodded once.

"I'm not trying to make enemies, but… I'm not willing to play the role of the dumb Gryffindor Golden Boy anymore. I want to be me, Fred."

"That's not much to ask, I suppose."

Harry laughed, but it was a bitter, broken glass laugh, one that sounded like it hurt him, "From you maybe, but it's too much for the rest of the wizarding world to give me."

Fred looked like he would have liked to argue, but he kept silence until Mr Weasley called them in and sent them back to bed. They would return to the Burrow at first light to reassure Mrs Weasley as quickly as possible. Although he had looked hard at Harry, nothing more was said about his activities for which Harry was grateful, if a little surprised. It wasn't until he was on the edge of sleep that he realised Mr Weasley was probably going to hand him over to Mrs Weasley as soon as they got back. It wasn't a comforting thought to fall asleep to.

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and Please go again!**

**Koruyhua got 8 points. It wasn't exactly a massacre at Malfoy Manor, but near enough. It does state in the story that the 2002 World Cup was after the war ended (more details in this chapter), so the explosion, since it bared Harry from playing, can't have had anything to do with Voldemort. I'm not sure if that should count as a hint or logic so half points for it.**

**A got 5 points for asking why Harry didn't warn Fred and George about Bagman. All will be explained. Unfortunately, A, you didn't give me a house to add the points to. **

**Since no one got any of the other hints, I'll leave the competition open a bit longer, so if anything in this chapter made it easier to work out without giving the answer straight up…**


	8. Mayhem at the Ministry

**Authors Note**: I'm not trying to portray Mr and Mrs Weasley as stupid. I'm trying to portray them as fanatical. Let me know how I'm doing.

**I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR**

**Reality of a Hero**

**Chapter 8: Mayhem at the Ministry**

Mr Weasley woke them after only a few hours sleep and once they were all dressed and standing groggily outside the tents, he used magic to pack them up and they left the half empty camp site as quickly as they could. Mr Roberts, standing as the door of his cottage, once again waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas." For the first time since he returned to the past, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He could have done something about this. He could have told Tia earlier or even Dumbledore… maybe he was being too hard on Dumbledore… Wasn't he doing the same thing that he had always condemned the old man for: Withholding information that could save lives?

Shaking his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts, he wondered where they had come from as they walked. Hermione had been wrong; he hadn't been punishing the world because Dumbledore was dead. He honestly had been disgusted by the wizarding world's corruption and had long ago come to the conclusion that the Statue of Secrecy had nothing to do with protecting witches and wizards from muggles and everything to do with making sure that the muggle governments never got to look too closely at how the wizarding world was run. He had never tried to do anything about it because quite frankly, he felt the wizarding world deserved it.

The thoughts that had been running through his head before were the thoughts he would have expected from the real fourteen year old Harry Potter. He knew too much about the world to let himself fall into that way of thinking, so why were they bothering him? Dumbledore was far more likely to memory charm him and sent him back to the Dursleys then listen to him, so why was he defending him?

His attention was pulled back when the gentle roar of a large crowd broke his train of thought and they pushed through to reach Basil who was standing with his friend from the day before, He of The Kilt and The Poncho.

A quick discussion later and they joined the end of the queue and were soon taking a rubber tyre back to Stoutshead Hill, this time without the Diggorys. As they stood waiting for the portkey, Harry spotted two of the War Mages from the previous night, one of them was wearing a short sleeved robe and a black leather cuff on his wrist caught the light, the silver inlay flickering. No acknowledgement was given beyond meeting his eyes for a moment. _I see you. I see you too. I know you. I know you too._ It was all the acknowledgement he expected. It was the War Mage way. The portkey activated and they were whisked away by what felt like a hook behind their navels and Harry felt unaccountably better. He wasn't alone. He wouldn't be abandoned this time. It was the War Mage way.

They walked back to the burrow in the dawn light, a strange reluctance to speak hanging over them. Hermione kept shooting him strange looks and Fred was walking just close enough to brush his hand every few steps. Ahead of them Charlie and Bill were playing some game that seemed to involve trying to push the other without actually touching them, only their bags, but it was half hearted as exhaustion had settled over them like a cloud. As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the damp lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Mrs Weasley had been waiting for them in the garden and she came towards them, her face pale and strained and a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand. "Arthur, I've been so worried… so worried." She practically screamed.

She threw her arms around his neck and let the Daily Prophet fall from her hand. Harry stepped forward and scooped it up before anyone could see the headline.

"You're all right." Mrs Weasley muttered before releasing him and turning to the others. Resigned to it, Harry let her hug him, telling her he was alright and she quickly moved onto the others. Harry handed the paper to Mr Weasley once she was passed him and fought not to roll his eyes. How it could be any surprise to anyone that she had ended up addicted to calming potion was a mystery to him.

Mr Weasley handed the paper to Bill with a meaningful look and turned to his distraught wife who was clutching the twins to her bemoaning her treatment of them the day before they left. The twins looked resigned; they knew better then to fight their mother when she was like this. Molly Victoria Weasley could go from distraught to spitting mad in .03 of a second.

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly OK." He said soothingly, prising her off of the twins and leading her back towards the house.

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen; and Hermione had made Mrs Weasley a cup of tea and Mr Weasley had poured four fingers of firewhiskey into it before the younger girl gave it to her, Bill handed his father back the paper. Mr Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder, "I knew it, "he sighed, "_Ministry blunders… lax security… Dark Wizards running unchecked… War Mages forced to take action… National disgrace…_Who wrote this? Ah… of course… Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" Percy began to rant furiously, "Last week she was saying that we were wasting our time arguing about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't _specifically_ stated in paragraph twelve of the _Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans…_"

"Do us a favour, Perce" Bill broke in before he could get up too much steam, "and shut up."

"I'm mentioned." Mr Weasley didn't sound too happy about it.

"Where?" spluttered Mrs Weasley, choking on her tea laced whiskey, "If I had seen that, at least I would have known you were alive!"

"Not by name…"

Harry's attention wandered at that point as Mr Weasley read out the articule. The only real difference this time round was the active participation of the War Mages. The first time, they had chosen to act with the aurors and Unspeakables already there as security, rather then independently. His attention was brought back suddenly when Percy stated that he would go into work with his father and Mrs Weasley promptly got upset.

"Alright if I dump my stuff in your room, Ron?" Harry asked suddenly with a meaningful look at the redhead and Hermione.

"Yeah… think I will too, Hermione?" Ron asked.

She agreed and they left quickly.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked as he dumped his bag onto the floor.

"I know what Percy's been trying to get you to ask about and it isn't an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."

"What is it then?"

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament is being held at Hogwarts this year."

"What? Hermione yelped, "I've never heard of it."

"It's a tournament between Durmstrang, Beaubatons and Hogwarts that used to be held every five years. Then the death toll got too high and it was stopped." Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore has managed to persuade the other two schools into agreeing to it. Bagman told me."

"Harry" Hermione said suddenly, her voice harsh, "What were you doing last night?"

He sighed, running a hand down the plait until it reached his collar, "I can't tell you Hermione."

"Why not? We're your best friends!" she snapped.

"Because it's classified. You do know what that means, don't you?" he snapped right back at her.

"But…"

"No, Hermione. I can't talk about it with anyone outside the organisation I was working with."

She nodded once, sharply, "Then how do we join it?"

He sighed again, "You don't. It's invite only."

Her eyes widened, "The War Mages… Harry! You're only fourteen and you're still in school! How can you know enough to be invited to join them? Even I…" there was real anger in her voice now, but the she stopped herself, either realising what she was about to say or too angry to continue and Harry sighed; once again he was being blamed for Hermione's failure to get what she believed she disserved to get first.

"Evidently I knew enough for them. Drop it Hermione!" he snarled when she opened her mouth to protest.

Ron just looked back and forth between them carefully keeping his emotions in check, "Look mate," he held up his hands in peace when Harry spun to face him, his eyes blazing, "Mum is going to throw a fit, you know right?" His voice sounded disturbingly satisfied.

Before Harry could say anything a yell came from downstairs;

"HARRY! GET DOWN HERE!"

"Yeah, "he sighed, "I know."

When Harry got down the stairs, flanked by a fuming Hermione and a still-holding-his-emotions-in-check Ron, he found Bill, Charlie and an almost shaking Mrs Weasley standing in the kitchen. Leaning casually against the wall beside the door was a man Harry didn't recognise, though he was wearing the War Mage uniform and had held a black cuff in his hand.

He pushed himself away when Harry stepped into the room, he held out his hand, "Mr Potter? Abe Canfield. The Leader sent me to get you. Wants to talk about last night."

"Oh, Harry, child! Why didn't you tell me you had gotten involved? Are you alright? St Mungo…" Mrs Weasley rushed over to him, running the wand over him and muttering about healers and St Mungo's and helpless children. Harry gently pushed her away, smiling, partly in relief, "It's alright, Mrs Weasley, I wasn't hurt. I wasn't involved in the fighting, don't worry."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry over nothing."

Whatever Mrs Weasley was about to say was cut off when the War Mage stepped forward, "We need to leave Mr Potter."

Harry nodded and reached over to touch the leather cuff that Canfield had closed around wrist while Harry was blocking everyone's view of him and then they were gone.

The portkey dropped them into a circular room that was both very familiar and spinning rather quickly. Canfield tapped the wrist cuff with his wand and stated his name clearly and the room stopped with a door to their left glowing softly.

Through the door was an open plan office filled with people. Desks were piled high with open and closed files and sheets of parchment. Guns, daggers and the odd potion bottle were being used as a paper weights. Tia was standing in the middle of the room talking to another man that Harry didn't recognise. She nodded to him and motioned him over, "Harry, this is Anthony Disraeli, the Director of the Department of Mysteries."

"Director" Harry nodded and he looked the man over. He was easily as tall as Bill Weasley with blue black hair and a pale, tired face. His blue eyes twinkled though and Harry suddenly felt uneasily reminded of Dumbledore.

"I must say Mr Potter, because of you I have had one of the most traumatic mornings of my time as director. Also one of the most enjoyable." He added with a smile, "I have had one Albus Dumbledore demanding that you be removed from the War Mages, that Hypatia be arrested and that the War Mages be placed directly under his control immediately."

"He found out quickly." Harry said.

"I suggest we enter the Circle, Anthony." Tia said, "And let the War Mages get back to work."

"Of course, of course."

The room was, as the name suggested, circular and built like an amphitheatre. Looking around it, Harry couldn't help but wonder why they weren't in Tia's office. They walked down the steps towards the centre where a table and three chairs had been placed and Harry absently ran a hand over the rows of seats as they passed them on the way down. It hadn't really been that long since he had last been here since he had always made a point to make the monthly War Mage meetings in the future. Suddenly, it dawned on him that Hermione hadn't known he was a War Mage in the future. She hadn't known that he hadn't abandoned the wizarding world completely. Frowning slightly at the thought and the guilt that washed through him, he pushed it away. Now wasn't the time to worry about what Hermione knew or didn't know in the future.

They took the three seats and Tia quickly set a diction quill onto a piece of paper, "Alright, War Mage Potter. Report."

With a small smile, he did, telling them exactly what had happened from his point of view in the battle.

Tia and Disraeli asked a few questions at the end and Harry responded with short clipped answers. They were his commanders and they wanted information, not explanations.

When they were finished, Tia pulled a sheet of papers from inside her robe and put it on the table, "We haven't been monitoring this directly. Rather we just got lucky on one of the Unspeakables general sweeps. Given both Dumbledore and Fudge's reactions to yesterday's events and to the increasing evidence that Voldemort is not as dead as we would like to believe, I feel this has to be dealt with. The minister is an idiot, but Dumbledore is a true believer. I'm not sure which of them will do the most damage in the long run.

"Anyway, back to the point. At 7.15am this morning, Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office along with his son, Percy Weasley of the Department for International Magical Co-operation flooed to the ministry. He was here for ten minutes and then he flooed to Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thirty minutes later, he returned to the atrium with Albus Dumbledore and returned to his office. Dumbledore then went to see you Anthony, correct?"

He nodded.

"I think it's safe to assume that Weasley told Dumbledore what happened at the World Cup."

Disraeli nodded and pulled the sheet over to him "And you, War Mage Potter were his main objective. Not finding out what information we had. Hypatia tells me you know the prophecy." He rubbed his chin. "How do you feel about this, War Mage?"

Harry leaned back, taking his glasses and putting them onto the table, "My destiny is laid out before me. I have to fight. I believe Dumbledore intends to use me as a figure head –slash – secret weapon and then sacrifice me for his 'greater good'. After all, the hero can't disappoint the masses can he?"

Tia nodded, "I agree."

"Family doesn't mean much to you, does it Hypatia?" Disraeli said.

"That man isn't my family."

FWHPGW

It was nearly half ten and the Burrow was quiet when Harry appeared at the Apparition point with an almost soundless pop, his licence in his pocket. Also in his pocket was a leather cuff identical to the one Abe Cranfield had been wearing and an official document giving him permission to use magic outside school. It was more of a relief then he cared to admit. He _was_ good with intent magic and he _was_ one of the most powerful users of that type of magic in the world, but both he and Tia knew it was only a matter of time before the side effects started. It was something neither of them had been looking forward to explaining.

Nothing had really been decided at his debriefing, not that he had really been expecting it to. He had never ranked high enough in the War Mages to have been invited to the strategy and information meetings that didn't directly involve him and once the Voldemort issue had been dealt with, he had been content to return to the rank and file. Tia didn't want to expose him to too much scrutiny yet, not out of a misplaced desire to keep him safe or because of his age, but simply because at present he wouldn't do much good. He was glad to have his desk back though; since he could now dump things there he didn't really want to explain to Dumbledore.

Other then that, Disraeli wasn't going to try to kick him out of the War Mages, not that he actually could. Only the War Leader had that authority, Dumbledore apparently didn't know that little titbit. They had decided they would continue to monitor the old man's actions and begin an investigation into Arthur Weasley's loyalty. It wasn't what Harry had wanted, but there was nothing he could do. Mr Weasley's own actions had damned him. Tia had also informed them that Lucius Malfoy had been less then a minute behind Weasley and had made a beeline for the minister. Their relationship was also under scrutiny. Harry was rather amused that all Fudge's attempts to keep the War mages otherwise engaged were now coming back to haunt him.

In the original timeline, Fudge had died before the War Mages had got involved, having ordered the War Mages not to investigate the return of Voldemort. While no order otherwise had more then once been interpreted by the War Mages as permission, they couldn't actually go against a direct order from the Director of the Department of Mysteries, even when said Director was a crony of Fudge put in place at the first sign of interest from them. Harry had warned Disraeli not to stand too firm against the minister if he wanted to keep his job.

After Disraeli had left, he had given Tia all the information she had asked for and in return discovered that Tia had been investigating Sirius' situation and wasn't happy with what she had found. He had been on the short list of people who were to be invited into the War Mages when the events of Halloween 1981 occurred. The little morsel that Sirius was never tried had certainly not made it back to the War Mages.

The Weasley family were gathered in the living when he got in and they looked up, in relief and annoyance when he came in.

"Harry…" Hermione immediately started.

"No, Hermione." He held up his hand, "I was in a debriefing for most of it. Then there was a strategy meeting. That's all I can tell you."

"We're your best fri…"

"Hermione" Mrs Weasley said softly, "If it's classified, he can't talk about it. Did a healer look you over, dear?"

Slightly surprised, Harry answered in the affirmative before thinking about it. The healer had also given him a few other things as well. He planned to try them night, "I'm really tired. I'm going to bed."

"Alright dear."

Hermione looked somewhat mutinous as he left the room, but went back to her chess game with Ron.

Standing in the bathroom after changing into his pyjamas, Harry stared at the mirror, holding a bottle of potion in his hand. He downed it in one go, and then turned his attention to the other three bottles lined up on the sink. Quickly and decisively, he downed the next two, making a face at the taste, and then he picked up the third and looked at it. He opened it and slowly he poured it into his hands and rubbed it into his skin, using a spell to make sure he covered his back completely. Then he rinsed the bottles and cast a charm on his eyes to make them red and swollen. Taking off his glasses, he folded them on the side of the sink and looked at himself once more in the mirror, tempted to let the glamour fade, but then changed his mind and made his way back to Ron's room and then into bed, leaving the letter to Mrs Weasley on the locker beside him. He cast three spells in rapid succession and fell into an uneasy sleep.

When Hermione Granger woke the next morning, there was only one thought on her mind. _Get Harry to talk_. She didn't know what was going on with him this summer, but she didn't like it. Hermione Granger was a smart girl and she understood that he couldn't tell her much, but surely, surely he could tell her something! Like why he had been invited and she hadn't? Hermione was intelligent enough to realise that part of her newly formed obsession was jealousy. The War Mages were terribly difficult to get into and unless it was his fame, Harry had far less to offer them then she did. Another part of it was worry, there was no way that Harry could take care of himself without her there. He needed someone there to make sure he actually did… whatever it was he was meant to be doing.

The Mrs Weasley screamed, "HARRY!"

Whatever Hermione had been expecting to happen today this wasn't it. Harry was levitating about half a foot off of his bed in Ron's room. Ron, she noticed absently, was sitting on his bed with a strange expression of his face as he watched his mate.

Harry was levitating and he was unconscious. He was also surrounded by a pale blue light that zapped anyone who tried to touch it. Mrs Weasley was staring at him, tears in her eyes and one of her hands till smoking slightly. Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, trying to see through the blue glow. He seemed to be in pain going of the grimace on his face and his eyes were red and swollen. Wringing her hands she looked around, trying to think of something to help. And she saw the letter.

Twenty minutes later there was no change. Mrs Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Hermione sat around the Boy Who Lived staring wordlessly at him. Every now and then the blue light would intensify at some point on his body and he would shimmer slightly and shift and then everything would go back to the way it had been before. Hermione clutched the letter Harry had written to Mrs Weasley in her hand, the words going round and round in her head

_'Mrs Weasley,_

_I know that you are probably very worried about me at the moment, but I assure you I am alright. I told you I had been checked over by a mediwitch while I was at the Ministry. She told me that there was a way of undoing the damage done to me over the years by the Dursleys. _

_I didn't tell you what I planned I didn't want to have to argue about it. I decided that this way was easier all around._

_I should wake up tomorrow morning. I'm sorry for worrying you._

_Harry'_

GWFWHP

It was a testament to how busy the Ministry was that neither Mr Weasley nor Percy noticed that Harry was missing that day, Mrs Weasley had told them that the children had already gone to bed when they got back.

The next day, Harry woke up to find Ron, Fred and George asleep around him as the spells finally finished and he dropped rather sharply onto his bed. He ached everywhere and his eyes stung. Climbing as quietly as he could out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom, locking the door after him to make sure he had privacy. Turning to face the mirror, he cancelled the glamour.

Tracing his fingers over the eagle tattoo, he shivered slightly. He missed them, missed seeing them, the tattoos had been so much a part of him for so long… He turned slightly to he could see the Gemini sign on his back. It had been an inside joke between the three of them. The body under the tattoos had filled out a little, not much, but a little and he had gained a couple of inches of height as well. Maybe this time he would actually make it to the average height for a male in England. Rinsing his eyes off, he looked closely at them and grinned. No doubt Mrs Weasley would cast an anti-swelling spell charm on him the moment she seen him. It would work as well as a _finite incantatem._ He untied his hair and brushed his fingers through it before stepping into the shower.

Half an hour later he recast the glamour and, wrapping a towel around his waist, left the bathroom with his hair falling loose down his back in a black wave.

Fred was just stirring when he opened the door and stepped in. "Harry?"

"Hi Fred."

"You're alright?" he asked, climbing into a kneeling position and motioning Harry over to him. The movement woke George who blinked blearily at Harry, "You're awake!"

Grinning, he looked at them and then checked Ron. He was still sleeping soundly. Harry looked from one to the other of the twins, then at his friend again. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling his wand out and casting a sleeping charm on Ron and a locking charm on the door. Then he stepped forward so that Fred could reach him.

George climbed to his feet behind him, both poking him lightly, "You're really alight?"

"Better then I've been since I was a year old. Didn't your mum tell you what was in the letter?" he asked as George lifted his hair up so he could touch his back.

"Yeah but…" Fred cut off as his trailing finger caught something he couldn't see, "Harry?"

"Want to see what I really look like?"

"Yes…" George hissed behind him as he watched Fred's finger play with something he couldn't see.

Harry dropped the glamour.

"Oh…" George said, stepping back so he could see the tattoos.

Fred didn't say anything, simply drinking in the younger boy, his finger trailing down over the soft skin until the reached the towel.

"May I?"

For a moment, Harry hesitated, the knowledge of his current age at the forefront of his mind, but this was Fred and George. And it had been so long… he hadn't had a drink, or a fuck or anything since he came back in time, not even a hand job… The cravings that he had been ignoring hit him hard in the chest and he didn't even realise he had agreed until he felt the towel hit his feet.

He sprawled in the comfort of Fred's arms, lazing zigzagging a finger across George's side and enjoying the little tremors it caused. George was more ticklish then his twin. He body felt heavy, almost sedated. It was a feeling he hadn't experience since before the explosion that claimed the twins lives. That thought made him tense and Fred made a sleepy noise behind him, "We should probably move. It won't be long before your mum wakes up."

"I suppose so." George caught his hand as he made to pull away, "We're going to have to talk about this."

"How are those exercises coming along?"

"We can hold them…"

"For a few minutes each."

"Good, then you can move onto the next stage. Do you want to do this again?"

The twins shared a look, and then turned to him, "Yes."

"Then lets keep it casual for now, okay? No commitments, no demands and when your occulmuncy is up to scratch, we'll sit down and talk again."

"Alright, Harry."

They had just finished getting cleaned up when Mrs Weasley knocked on the door, "Boys?"

"Hold on a sec." Fred called as he finished pulling on his jeans as Harry cancelled the charm on Ron and recast his glamour. The three boys shared a grin as Ron sleepily asked what was going on.

Mrs Weasley cooked a huge breakfast to celebrate Harry being awake and alright, though she yelled at him and then hugged him when she got into the room. Hermione had been more subdued then usual, though Harry was too busy dodging questions to be sure why. That evening when Mr Weasley and Percy come home, he explained as much as he could. The mediwitch had mentioned the process, which was a small ritual and some potions, explaining that they were an altered version of those given to coma patients to help stop muscle degradation. They weren't in general use because there was so little call for them and had been primarily developed for muggle-borns. Abused wizarding-world raised children seldom showed the physical scars. It had been somewhat of a relief to learn that Dumbledore hadn't hidden the process from him on purpose. She had done all the prep work with him before he left so all he had to do was down the potions and recite the activation spells. Ironically, he had also got his 'miracle', claiming that obviously he hadn't inherited bad eye-sight off of his father, but it was from the Dursleys abuse.

Mr Weasley and Percy didn't appear too bothered by it, though both were showing signs of exhaustion. Everyone had been surprised to discover that Harry had been mistreated badly enough for anything to _need_ to be done to offset the damage and Mrs Weasley could be heard muttering about useless guardians. Harry noted that not once, was her ire targeted at Dumbledore.

It was Sunday night and they would leave for Hogwarts the next day. Ginny was lying before the fire, fixing a school book, Mrs Weasley as trying to knit while watching the family clock. Fred and George were in a corner, quietly discussing something. Bill was playing chess with Ron and Charlie was mending a fire-proof balaclava. Harry was polishing his broomstick and thinking.

"You're father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-know-Who." Mrs Weasley sighed suddenly, "They're working him far too hard. His dinner is going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he? If truth be told, he was tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first…"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote! Mrs Weasley snapped back.

Harry turned out the argument, remembered all to well how easily Mrs Weasley believed what Skeeter wrote about Hermione. Maybe it was just because Hermione was a girl, so it was alright. Even at twenty-eight, he hadn't understood girls. Thinking of the article about Hermione made him think about the Triwizard Competition and he hastily constructed plan to deal with it. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it. He didn't want to compete. At the same time, as he had told Tia, it was the easiest way for Voldemort to get his body back. According to Tia, they had almost all the horcuxi gathered, so when Voldemort revivied himself, only his new body would stand between him and death…

"His _slave_ you mean! Hermione's shriek broke him out of daydreams of a post-Voldemort world, "Because he didn't _pay_ Winky, did he?"

"I think you had all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" Mrs Weasley said sharply.

Packing up, he headed upstairs with Ron. There was no way he would admit it, but he was tired. The ritual had taken more energy then he could admit to Mrs Weasley without being sent to St Mungos.

When they got to their room, Pigwidgeon began tittering and zooming around his cage like a… Harry wasn't sure there was anything to compare the little thing with.

"Bung him come owl treats" Ron said throwing him a packet, "it might shut him up."

Nodding, Harry pushed some treats through the bars and glanced at Hedwig's empty cage. He had let her out earlier to she could fly ahead to Hogwarts.

"Here's the stuff mum got you in Diagon Alley. And she got some gold out of your vault for you… and she washed all your socks."

He heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry's bed and he started opening them. It felt strange to not be worrying about Sirius right now. He remembered being almost in a panic. He was nearly finished packing the first lot away when Ron made a disgusted sound behind him.

"What is that supposed to be?" he said, holding up the dress robes Harry remembered from his forth year. He suppressed a snigger through shear force of will.

Just then, Mrs Weasley knocked on the door and came in holding a load of Hogwarts robes, "Here you are. Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress." Ron said holding it out to her.

"Of course I haven't. That's for you, dress robes."

"_What?"_ Ron looked horrified.

"Dress robes. It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year… robes for formal occasions."

Ron looked at her in disbelief, "You've got to be kidding! I'm not wearing that, now way!"

"Everyone wears them, Ron. They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!" Mrs Weasley snapped crossly.

"I'll go starkers before I put that on!"

"Don't be silly, you've got to have dress robes, they're on your list. I got some for Harry too, show him, Harry…" Mrs Weasley was definitely loosing her temper.

He opened the last parcel without saying a word and pulled out he familiar bottle green dress robes and held them up for Ron to see.

"I thought that they'd bring out the colour of your eyes, dear".

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

"Well, they're OK!" Ron snarled, "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because… well…" Mrs Weasley seemed to deflate, "I had to get yours second hand and there wasn't much choice."

"I'm never wearing them!" Ron stated, "Never."

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley's temper boiled back up, "Go naked. And Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. Both boys stared after her for a moment and then turned at the strange spluttering noise behind them. Pig was choking on an owl treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish!" Ron snapped as he crossed the room to unstuck Pig's beak.

Harry watched him for a moment, seeing the echo of the arrogant, touchy, arsehole Ron had become and shuddered.


End file.
